


Your Courage, My Heart

by parkjinchu



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Music, High School, M/M, Music
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-06-08 09:04:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 37,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6848230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parkjinchu/pseuds/parkjinchu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dan is a loner, who spends his lunch breaks in the music room writing his own music. He dreams of having people listen to his music, and hopes to inspire. Phil, who sits opposite him in Music Class, discovers Dan’s talent one lunch break.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> No warnings in this first chapter! I hope you enjoy it! It's 4k words long.  
> Please read the notes at the end, as well, once you finish :)

**Dan**

There is something peaceful in writing music.

The scratch of pencil on paper, pre-lined with bars, for the writer to fill in the clef and the notes. The first press of a keyboard, to the final pluck of a guitar string. Scrambling your mind through a thousand words for the one that sounds _just right_. The hidden mathematics between it all. And though it sounds complicated, I’ve learnt, it feels incredible as you hear the song for the first time. It’s like your heart and soul has poured out of you, from your finger tips and your lips, and maybe someday, someone will hear it through their earphones.

That’s my dream.

 

**Third Person**

The clang of metal rung aloud, sharp and clear, as Dan threw his textbooks into his locker, then slammed it shut. Already, the hall was almost bare, unsurprisingly. Murmurs of general chat, test scores and gossip faded until it was outside, and Dan was on his own in front of the Music Room door.

Pushing down the handle and the door open, he was welcomed to a semi-dark room. The kind that’s dark other than for the streams of light that drift between swaying curtains. He crept inside, quietly shutting the door behind him, the clasp slipping into place. Laughter and chatter danced into the room, singing sweetly into Dan’s ears. He’d never had friends to do that with at lunch, he’d always wished he had. He didn’t turn the light on, and he shut the windows.

The Music Room was set up strangely. The side that faced outside, where the sound of peers originated, was tacked with numerous photos of the School Band, ripped from FaceBook, and the curtains were ugly, too. The wall that was connected to the rest of the school had a ginormous cupboard, filled to the brim with musical instruments of all shapes and sizes. Seriously, Dan himself and his small frame could barely make his way though. Two, rather large band seats sat across from each other in the middle of the room. They were black and huge, and arranged like stairs. One was pushed against the wall, and the other set a little forward. Behind this set was a storage cupboard, filled with old music books and once, a half-filled coffee cup. A small desk and plastic school chair also sat, almost forgotten, with the cabinet. The rest of the room was scattered with music sheets, pens, miscellaneous trumpets, and a few desks in disarray; the teachers.

Dan made his way behind the far set of stair-like seats, swinging his bag onto the table. From this small nook, Dan would be unseen by anyone who opened the door, and if one looked hard enough, might see the light from his laptop screen bounce off the wall. He felt safe here.

In this time, Dan would record and edit his music. The time spent in here was useful, the school had an excellent microphone, and it made music making much faster with this extra near two hours of school lunch. At home, he and his father shared an extended variety of musical instruments, so he recorded the instrumentals in his father’s band room. The home music room didn’t have as great acoustics, nor a beautifully clear microphone like the school’s, so he recorded his voice here.

Dan had a beautiful voice, although this was only known by his family and the old lady next door, Miriam, who had just happened to be sharing a tea with Dan’s mother when he was in the shower, belting out an old favourite. However, no matter how many times he’d been told ‘ _Dan, your voice is incredible, you should become a singer!’_ nothing and no one had ever convinced him his voice would take him _there_. To fame, to inspiration. He knew his voice was good, he’d heard it, but nothing stopped anyone like themselves.

Dan plugged the microphone into his computer, pulling out his notebook. This was _Song Book #3_ , as messily scrawled on the front cover. He’d been writing lyrics since he was fourteen, and at sixteen now, he was almost finished his third book. The notebook was thick, with random piece of paper or extra notes shoved inside. The corners of the paper were dirty and soft from wear, and the spine littered with hairline cracks. Two rubber bands held the pages together. He loved each book, nonetheless.

“Uh,” – he spluttered – “testing… Testing… One-two-three.”

He cringed, shaking at the term. He hated saying it, and even more, listening back to it each time he went to edit his music. His father had told him it was the correct way to test a microphone; Dan didn’t believe him.

Dan opened the notebook, sliding slips of paper back into the respected pages, and singing the lyrics he’d practiced over and over aloud. Occasionally he’d stop, scribble out a line or in a little note, before carrying on. Until he’d sung the words a few times, added in some vocal sound effects and stretched words, he closed the notebook and slid it back into his bag. He heard the bell ring then, numerous sighs and complaints followed outside.

After packing up, he opened the door and slid out, hoping no one noticed.

 

**Phil**

Chris stood a little too close to PJ. PJ carefully pulled out Chris’s geography book for him, placing it in his outstretched arms. I roll my eyes. A few people greet me, smile at me, wave. I greet them back. It’s a typical day for me.

As the two chat quietly, so close their whispers brushed against their cheeks, I tuned out. I tried often to listen, but after a while I had learnt their conversations were whispered for a reason. Resting against PJ’s closed locker, thick lock pressing into the muscle beside my spine, I glanced down the hall. A few students had started filing in, preparing for the next class. I watched as the Music Room door opened, Dan Howell slid out. Quickly shutting the door, he walked in the direction opposite myself.

I think I was the only one to notice.

 

**Third Person**

Dan grabbed his books for his next two classes, wandering the halls to Classroom 2C. Ducking and dodging other students that didn’t seem to notice him, he cautiously scurried though the halls, math textbook and band notebook in his hands. He loved math and band lessons.

Math, because the students around him fell into a silence as they worked, that soothed him. And, secretly, the smooth sailing of algebraic equations and the way they expanded and contracted like a lung or a heart, was enjoyable. And band was a given; musical instruments galore, and spending an hour faffing around on various tools was exciting and useful. But, that wasn’t it. Usually for Dan, it _would_ be it. But, he sat directly opposite Phil Lester.

Dan has a _thing_ for Phil Lester. A crush, to put it childishly. And see, Dan doesn’t think he would have ever come to finding himself in love in high school – he rarely talked to anyone, and only ever listened to the monotone draw of teachers. And besides, no one at school _really_ knows who he is. It gets awkward in group projects ( _“What’s your name again? Dan – that’s right. Maybe Dan would like to do this for us?”_ ). Dan was an oyster, it seemed. One day, the right person will dive down and see whether he has a pearl inside or not.

The one exception to Dan’s apparent non-existence was Phil Lester, who had acknowledged him on many occasions (thus leading into Dan’s crush on the guy). Although, Dan isn’t too sure Phil knows his name, either. It’s just, sometimes, he and Phil would non-verbally communicate, sitting across from each other in band. Phil would make a silly face, or some stupid kid would say something dumb, and they’d glance at each other and protect themselves from outbursts of laughter by slapping their hands over their lips.

It all began when Dan caught him staring one day.

 

**Dan**

**| That Particular Day |**

He’s looking at me. I can feel my heartbeat thumping against the skin on my chest like I’ve only ever felt when I saw Phil. It has a different rhythm to which it bounces, it goes on it’s own accord, which frustrates me because it’s the only piece of myself that won’t keep a steady beat He just won’t look away!

I try to ask him this, silently, but he doesn’t respond. Cocking my head to the side, this sudden movement seems to wake him. He jumps, and I watch the blood rise to his cheeks, dusting them with a baby-glow. He grins, tongue poking out from between his teeth, bringing a hand to his chest as he seems to chuckle. I worry if he’s laughing at me, the thought a horror, and go to turn away. He shakes his hands wildly and mouths what looks like _sorry_ , and then points to the back of his head.

I bring my head to the back of my own, confused, until I feel a tuft of soft hair spiking upwards. I blush, feeling hot and my ears stinging, and try my best to smooth it down. I look to Phil for approval, without thinking twice. He’s watching me again, but I can’t place his focus, as his eyes shift from my head to my hair. He sticks his thumb up from his fist, giving me the approval I knew I needed.

He turns back to his sheet music, then, and I’m left to stare at him as he continues conversation with his friend, and suddenly I’m forgotten again. I sigh, wishing to draw my knees to my chest and hide, when he turns to me again, smiling.

I realise then, that band class is my favourite, for sure.

 

**Third Person**

As math drew to a close, Dan scribbled out the three times he’d written Phil’s name beside his in cursive, scratched in one final equation, and packed up. Band was held in the Music Room, of course, or 3A. Which meant, it was a fair way away from the math room on this large campus. He had ten minutes to get there, considering the staggered time tables, and briskly strolled along the way.

Outside, the Autumn sun bounced off the skin on his face, and the pathway lined with trees provided a soft breeze. He walked in peace, stepping in tune to a melody he’d conjured up in his head. He watched as orange leaves fell from the trees, dancing in the wind, before skittering across the grass.

He walked in peace, until he heard jogging footsteps coming his way, then felt a hand on his shoulder. The hand was heavy and warm, and turned him to face the other way. He was met with the slightly sagging face of his ninth grade teacher.

Mr. Sullivan, or as everyone in Music called him, Sully, had a silver halo of hair and a bald spot in the middle. He had a rough beard the ranged through all shades from black to white, the brushed against the collar of his polo’s. His sagging cheeks lifted on the inner corners as he grinned, smile lines carving deep into his character. He was always a happy man, Dan had noticed.

“Hello,” Dan smiled, pulling his books down from his chest. His newly opened profile made Mr. Sullivan all the more joyous.

He dropped his arm from Dan’s shoulder, crossing them over his stomach. “Hey, Dan! Long time – no see, eh?” he laughed, scratching his chin. His thick Irish accent was always so surprising to Dan. Sully seemed to ponder what he was going to say, rocking on his feet. He continued, one hand released and swaying about as he explained, “Well, I best make this quick because you’ll be having a class soon… How do I phrase this without sounding weird, Dan?” He asked, rhetorically. Dan almost went to answer, before the teacher laughed again.

Dan took the smallest step backwards, the least evident he could muster. Mr. Sullivan was always a forward, and slightly strange man. His quirky attitude was lovable, but he never failed to make Dan a little uncomfortable.

“I noticed you seem to go into the music room a lot at lunch, why is that?”

Dan swallowed, feeling his throat rise and fall again. How do you explain to a teacher you have no friends? And – without slipping in your embarrassing hobby? This was a dear secret of Dan’s; he didn’t even share his music with his father, who enjoyed the culture – together. He stuttered out a reply, “I-I, uh…”

Sully seemed to identify Dan’s discomfort, as any good teacher would, apologising quickly. “Oh, I’m sorry – bit intrusive!!” He chucked, patting Dan’s shoulder again, a little too harshly as Dan’s small frame shook underneath his palm. “Just interested. I know you take band lessons, but if you’re interested in band outside of class, you should join the club!” His eyes sparkled with hope, his lips curled into a soft smile.

Dan nodded, clutching his books back to his chest, almost guarding himself. “I’ll definitely think about it, sir,” he nodded. Dan gave a polite wave, and turned away, “I’ll see you later.”

“Bye, Dan!” Sullivan grinned, “And, thank you…” He strode off in the other direction, and Dan carried on towards 3A.

 

**Phil**

I sat on a lunch table, as Chris hunched over his band notebook, scrawling in the final notes that he’d forgotten to do for homework. I helped him occasionally, answering the questions he muttered under his breath. He would look up at me with slits for eyes, eyebrows knitted together in annoyance, but smiling nonetheless. “I’m gonna go soon, Chris,” I joked, as he sped up his pen.

“Wait, wait, I’m almost done!” He muttered from behind his pen.

“Don’t worry, I’m joking,” I assured, leaning back on my hands and staring up into the crystal blue sky. It was rare such a warm and clear Autumn day occurred. I’d soak it in, engrave it into my memory for a cooler day – more than likely tomorrow. To my right, a long path split the grass of the campus in two. And Dan Howell walked along it.

The sun hit his face, making it glow, and creating a silver lining along his nose and by his silhouetted eyelashes. His brown glistened underneath the warm yellow, sparkling. He looked content, the faintest smile dancing on his lips. I wonder what he’s thinking about.

Just as Chris flicks to the final page of questions, I see Sully reach Dan, turning him around. I can just hear what they say, as they stop opposite me on the line between me and Block B. Dan looked mildly inconvenienced, uncomfortable even, fidgeting on the spot and tight smile pressed against his face. It was a stark contrast to how he was barely a minute ago.

“I know you take band lessons, but if you’re interested in band outside of class, you should join the club!” Sully seemed optimistic, all too hopeful. I don’t think Dan would be entirely interested in it, although, I haven’t talked to him enough to decipher this.

Dan smiled again, it seemed less upset than previous. “I’ll definitely think about it, sir,” he nodded. He was small, and adorable, and awfully nice. Gosh. “I’ll see you later,”

As they departed, Dan brought his books closer to his chest again. He walked towards the Music Room, I swear stealing a glance my way. I quickly whipped my head back to Chris, “Hurry up, mate,” I urged, louder than normal, hoping Dan would hear it. I don’t know why I’d think that, anyway, but I want him to notice me.

Chris launched his hands into the air, throwing his head back. The sun fell in patterns on his face, “I’m free!” He laughed, packing up his pencil case.

Together, we walked to Band in comfortable silence. I thought of Dan, and Band Club. Band Club doesn’t sound all that amazing, but what if Dan joined? Would I want to, even then? Why would Dan join the club? Would he even like it? And, what does he do in Music Room during lunch?

**Third Person**

Dan wandered towards the Music Room, a Band Club poster plastered over the window. It must have turned up during math, it wasn’t there are first lunch break, Dan noticed. Dan pushed the door open, a wave of muddled conversations flowing over him as he entered the already crowded room. He threw his books under his chair and grabbed the keyboard on a stand, dragging it over to his seat. After plugging it in and sitting down, Phil and Chris strode in, sitting opposite Dan.

Today, Phil grabbed a guitar. He didn’t usually play guitar, instead violin, but he decided it would be worth it to learn more. Chris was already humming a song, plucking it on his own guitar, and Phil watched as Dan warmed up with scales.

There was only three things Dan didn’t like about music class. One: _how much spit dribbled everywhere from wind instruments._ Two: _the way the room wasn’t set up like it should be, with similar instruments near each other (however, Dan didn’t mind this as much knowing the boy of his dreams sat directly opposite him, and they even communicated)._ And, three: _how noisy it was; the music teacher didn’t treat the class like a class, instead as a time for musicians to play around for an hour (again, he didn’t mind this because it gave him even_ more _time to rehearse and write)._

Phil fanned out his music sheets on the stand in front of him as the teacher strode into the room. He sat behind his desk, called for silence, and said, “Off you go – try not to disturb me too much,” and off they practiced.

Phil held conversation with Chris, catching glances at Dan whenever possible, hoping Dan wouldn’t notice. When he matched gaze with the abyss-brown eyes, he ducked his head behind his fringe, blushing. Dan reached up to pretend to fiddle with his sheets, his face beet-red and heart beat in his ears. Dan, feeling ready to run and hide, pulled out Song Book #3. Placing it open in his lap, pencil and eraser rested inside, he would scrawl an extra note or lyric inside when he thought no one was looking.

Phil watched from across the way, staring at Dan. He had a pencil hanging from his lips, and his fringe pushed back in concentration, eyes focused on a notebook in his lap. He tapped his foot up and down in a messy beat, cocking his head back and forth. Bouncing lightly in his chair, he scribbled a few more notes in before the bell pulled him out of his trance. Phil sighed in dismay – he couldn’t stare at Dan forever – cleaning up his sheet music and packing away the guitar. With one last glance at Dan, who was shoving his notebook into his bag, he left the room with his bag slung over one shoulder.

PJ opened the door of the Drama Room, exiting with a wave, and joining Phil and Chris to lunch.

Dan slowly cleaned up after everyone until they’d all left the room. The teacher stood by the door, leaving with a, “Dan, I expect you can finish cleaning up?” and running from the room. All alone, Dan stood in the centre of the room, feeling the sudden silence swell through his ears.

He grinned to himself, making his way behind the levelled seats. He fiddled with the notes in his book, setting up the microphone, and continuing to do what he did best.

As he worked, he thought about Band Club, and his welcome invitation to join. Would it be worth it? He knew it would take away from his writing and study time at home, but maybe he could pick up some skills. What if they asked him to sing? God, no, he would refuse. How would they even know, though?

Phil leant his head against PJ’s locker, staring up at the grid ceiling. PJ groaned on and on about something, but Phil absentmindedly didn’t listen. He wondered what Dan was so completely focused on in music class. If he ever even looked away from his work, it was to glance at Phil or fix his fringe as it slid down his forehead.

The metal of the lockers clattered beside his head, shrieking in his ears. PJ’s palm lay flat against his head, having just slammed the locker shut. Phil jumped, “What?!” He yelped, ducking to the side as PJ stared him down with bored eyes.

“You’re not listening to me!!” He whined, slumping his shoulders. He was such a child, at times. In his hand, he held a juice box and a ham sandwich cut in two. He was most likely going to give it to Chris, though, who probably had something more mature to trade with him, or share.

“Sorry, I was distracted. Thinking about something else…” Something else, or _someone_ else. PJ raised an eyebrow when a pinkish blush crawled across his cheeks, and the darker-haired scratched the nape of his neck, uncomfortable. “Anyway, what’s up?” He asked, patting PJ’s shoulder and attempting to brush of the awkward moment. PJ immediately leaped into a detailed, long, and confusing gossip tale that he’d heard all about in Drama Class.

Sitting at their usual lunch table, under the shade of a giant old tree and surrounded by other students on other tables and in circles on the grass, Phil sat opposite Chris and PJ. He sat in silence, daydreaming. Chris cracked off a chunk of biscuit and popped it into PJ’s mouth, shuffling a bit closer.

“You think Phil’s okay?” he whispered under his breath.

“Sure,” PJ said, stuffing his sandwich wrapper in the cracks of the table. “Why?”

“He seems distant; always daydreaming.” Chris says, watching as Phil dragged his fingertips in different swirls, “I wonder what about?”

“You’re right,” PJ smiled, looking to Phil and then back to Chris, “It has been happening a lot over the past week or so.” He tucked a piece of hair behind Chris’s ear, smiling at him softly.

Chris giggled, pulling it back out, and hiding his grin behind his hand. He pushed PJ’s nearing face away, before he nuzzled his cheek childishly, chuckling softly, “Peej, not here,” he whined.

This, finally, caught Phil’s attention. “Stop it, you two… You’ll get caught if you behave like that!” He joked, wagging his index finger at them. They rolled their eyes, shuffling apart in the slightest.

“You’re just complaining because you’re third wheeling us,”

“Whatever.”

In the silence that followed, and Phil’s plunging return into being a third-wheel (because, it was true), he went back to the thoughts that previously consumed him. _What does Dan do in the music room? Does he not hang out with anyone at lunch? Surely, he has friends. Oh, Gosh, do I sound creepy? Should I follow him? God, no. I’ve barely ever talked to him. What if he doesn’t like me?_

_Oh, gee._

 

**Dan**

Writing lyrics, for me, is the hardest part of song writing.

Creating a tune comes so easily. It comes in the rush of the breeze, in the school halls between classes, in my very own heartbeat. Writing and learning the instrumental half: incredibly fun. Don’t get me wrong, I _love_ lyric writing, it just doesn’t come as naturally to me.

I guess, part of me, is too scared. My emotions, my inner-most thoughts, are trapped inside of me. They always have been. And why not release this all, pour my heart out, into my greatest passion?

I try.

One day, someone out there, one of the seven billion people populating the same planet as I, will listen to my music and feel at home.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil makes a rash decision and follows Dan to the Music Room at lunch break. As Dan catches him, feelings evoke and the story is just beginning!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there are any mistakes, please tell me! I edited this late at night, and couldn't find any, but if you do, please, I need to know!! :P

**Dan**

I have this dream, that comes and goes. I like to think that the day after I have this dream, my day will be good. It’s absurd, but I believe it’s like a lucky dream. It sounds naïve, I know.

The dream starts off with me on a stage. The first time I had this dream, it was on the stage in my school hall. Nowadays, it’s on a stage in an arena. I have a microphone in front of me, and a nice outfit on, but it’s dark, and I can’t see anything. I can’t move, I can hardly breathe. I feel shaky.

I can hear someone whispering my name, and the whisper gets louder, as if there’s more people saying it, and it thunders heavier and heavier until it’s a roar. But, it doesn’t sound mean, it feels welcoming. And I sing, and I realise I’m performing for thousands of people. I have an unsurpassable time, in this dream. I feel like this is where I’m supposed to be: singing my mind for all I am worth, for all of these people.

As I finish up, in each dream, I feel the pull of the sold-out crowd begging me back onto the stage. And, I want to go back on, I don’t fear it anymore. But, every time, there is a faceless person waiting for me side-stage. They greet me with open arms, and congratulate me. I realise, just before I wake up, that that’s where I’d rather be.

I don’t know who the person is, who or what they resemble… But, I like to think they’re a silhouette of what’s to come.

 

**Third Person**

Oh, English class. Dan didn’t hate English class, per se. He loved the language, and learning all about it. The way it was flexible, and broke its own rules. The techniques he was taught were useful in his lyric writing, and he was constantly taking notes. But the fact that Phil was in his class, alongside his two best friends, was intimidating. Especially today: presentations day.

Dan was glad that after this lesson, he could go and write alone at lunch. Safe.

Dan wandered into class, settling his bag beside him and sinking into his chair. He grabbed his note cards, arranging them on his desk in chronological order and practicing them one last time. His teacher strode into the room, standing before the class and called for roll, then ordered the presentations. Dan was second, after Kara Greene, a rounder girl, who lived softly and hidden. Dan knew she had a very kind heart, but even she didn’t know who he was.

When Dan’s name was called, he shakily gathered his notes, and near floated up to the front of the class, anxious. Looking out to the twenty people and Phil and Chris and PJ, Dan stood photograph still, before releasing a quiet, nervous sigh. He began his speech, eyes flickering over students in the class. Most of them hurriedly scrawled down their final sentences, looked out the window, or indiscreetly played on their phones under the desk. One of the only students who maintained eye contact and interest, was Phil, and Dan’s eyes kept falling back on him.

Around halfway through Dan’s presentation, as he clicked to the next slide, Phil wasn’t looking at him anymore. “PJ, _shut up_ ,” he muttered, hiding his mouth behind his hand so he couldn’t get caught by the teacher. PJ had been rehearsing his own speech under his breath, to Chris’s nodded approval and guided criticism.

They were silent for a moment, and Phil turned back to the front. “What’s with you lately, Phil?” PJ asked, placing one hand on Chris’s knee and rubbing his fingers in circles. He and Chris had previously discussed Phil’s distant attitude, the far-off look in his eyes, and his extended silences.

“Yeah…” Chris whispered, placing his hand over PJ’s and pushing it aside. PJ sighed, distraught. “We’re worried about you.” Phil simply shrugged, and neglected the two again to look back to the front of the class. Chris watched on in curiosity as Phil watched the kid who was presenting. He had a similar fringe to Phil, and he looked short, but Chris could guess that was just his posture. His face was cute and small, and the way he spoke was clear and smooth. He noted the way Phil watched him forlornly, his blue orbs like oceans shining whenever their eyes met.

Chris leaned over to PJ, whispering in his ear, “Hey, you; I think I worked out what’s up with Phil,” he smirked, deviance dancing in his eyes. PJ grinned, rubbing his hands together as if they were forming an evil plan. He put a hand to his ear, awaiting what Chris alluded to be a secret. “I think Phil’s got a _crush_ ,” he giggled behind PJ’s hand. PJ leant back, jaw dropped, as Chris nodded in the direction of the boy presenting.

It was PJ’s turn to notice the way Phil watched him, and how whenever their eyes met, even _he_ blushed. The brunet made his way back to his desk, stared down by Chris, PJ, and Phil, and obviously uncomfortable.

The two looked between Phil and the boy, who looked up at Phil before ducking his head. Phil turned crimson red, then opened his notebook to a random page and started drawing various doodles, ignoring the other presentations. As the scene that had unfolded came to a close, Chris and PJ looked to each other, mouths agape and eyes wide.

Once the bell rang, the two separated from Phil, who’s locker was distanced from theirs. They were ready to gossip, walking closely so they could hear each other. As they reached their lockers, side by side, PJ asked, “Who is that kid, anyway?” He opened Chris’s locker, combination engraved into his mind.

Chris sighed, popping his books inside the locker, distressed. “I have absolutely _no_ idea.” He sounded put-out that he didn’t know. “I mean, I’m pretty sure is name is Dan, because of roll-call. But, I’ve never _really_ noticed him…”

“Is he in any of your classes?” PJ imagined him and tried to picture him in scenarios he’d been in and classes they may have together, but only came up with, “I think he’s only in English with me.”

“Uh, no,” Chris looked up, trying to recollect any memories of Dan. “Come to think, he is in music with me…”

“And Phil,” they muttered, simultaneously. Chris’s jaw dropped, and PJ smirked cheekily.

“Come on, you,” PJ poked him, “Let’s go to lunch.”

 

**Phil**

I don’t know what I’m thinking.

I’m thankful for the hall being devoid of students, and the lack of PJ and Chris by my side. I stand in from of the music room door, face to face with a Band Club poster stuck to the front. _‘Band Club! For anyone interested in playing music in a group and performing. Club will meet on Tuesdays and Thursdays after school, until 4:00pm. Sign up below!!’_ A few names were scrawled underneath, none of which were Dan Howell’s.

I pushed the handle down and carefully pushed the door open, greeted to nothing but silence and darkness. Again, I have no idea what I’m thinking. I guess, I’m just curious as to what Dan gets up to in here, but it seems he’s not here. I feel invasive, as I step into the room and shut the door as quietly as possible behind me, as if I’m uncovering a secret.

There seemed to be nothing but darkness in here, but once my eyes adjusted, I noticed a black book bag leant against the far band seats. Someone must have left it in here, it should have a name tag on it. I walk over to investigate, when I hear a gentle tune playing from behind the staircase seats. I almost gasped, surprised, slapping my hand over my mouth to protect myself from being caught.

It started and stopped occasionally. Then, a voice began to sing. I stepped closer, being reeled in by the soothing voice. It was so beautiful, it made me feel nostalgic for the time when I read princess and prince books, and danced around the living room to my parent’s old records. I walked closer, until my toes nudged the book bag in the corner.

The song continued for longer than it had, and I almost melted and moulded into the image the beautiful voice depicted. The song came quickly to an end, and I gulped; Have I been caught?

 

**Third Person**

“If I just… Hmm, and then add _that_ lyric there, no, _there_ …” Phil stood, shell-shocked. “Da, da, la, _da_ , ti. That’s nice, okay.” Phil heard the person mutter and sing. It was Dan. Dan Howell.

Phil took a step backwards, stunned. The pieces began to fit together. Sure, he’d come in here looking for Dan, but he never thought Dan would write his own music. And, God, who would’ve known he’d sing as if he _came from the heavens_. Dan started singing again, and Phil dared take another step forward.

Of course, Phil is extremely clumsy, and in doing this, he knocks over a sheet stand. As the metal clatters to the floor, Phil catches Dan pulling off his headphones, before running to the door. He can’t get caught. As he yanks open the door and turns to run down the hall, Dan peeks around the back of the seats.

He sees Phil and his head of ebony hair turning out of the door at the last minute. He picks the pedestal up and falls back into his chair, feeling defeated. Had Phil seen him? Or heard him?

Trying to forget what he thinks he saw, he packed up Song Book #3, shoving it into his book bag that sat by the floor, and hurries out of the room.

***** *** *****

In the next lesson, Dan wonders whether he should venture back to the Music Room. It was his safe zone, and now it’s been discovered. He reasons with himself, as he stands before the poster on the door, that maybe Phil was just grabbing something he’d forgotten. Looking for something. Anything, Dan hoped, that stopped him from listening to Dan’s secret.

But, as Dan walked into the room, he didn’t sit behind the band seats. Instead, he sat on them, all alone in the dark. He felt small, curled him with his knees to his chest, sitting here in the hopes that Phil would come back. He thought he didn’t want anyone to know, but the sudden hope that Phil would find him interesting glowed warm in his heart. He waited in silence, consumed by his thoughts and the desire he had for Phil.

Phil traipsed the halls, Chris and PJ to his right. He wanted to go back to the music room, the thought itching in his brain, to see if Dan was still there, still singing.

_“Where were you at lunch, Phil?” Chris leaned over in Science Class, clicking his pacer over and over, and then pushing the thin graphite stick back in. Notes lined the page beside different scribbles of PJ’s name. Phil smiled, as each one was drawn in a different, pretty handwriting._

_“Library.” He answered, argument prepared. “I have this huge math test coming up,” he explained._

_“You were studying?!” Chris spat under his breath, as if the idea were unheard of. “And that took you all of second lunch? A few math equations?”_

_“I got caught up talking to someone!” Phil insisted, but something in his tone of voice made it evident he wasn’t telling the truth. A blush crawled across his cheeks._

_Chris smirked, prodding Phil’s cheek with the eraser on the tip of his pacer. “You blush too easily,” he teased. “Were you seeing someone? That Dan boy, perhaps?” He pressed._

_Phil gasped, dropping his pen onto his notepad, blue ink splotching on the paper. Surprised that Chris had worked it out, he turned scarlet, “H-How did you know?!”_

_Chris chuckled, twisting open his pacer lid and screwing it back on, “Phil, honey, it’s really obvious!” He looked forward after noticing the teacher’s eyes on the two, watching them carefully, and spoke without glancing at Phil, “PJ and I were talking about it. You should go for it, Phil!” he encouraged._

_“Chris – you!” Phil cried. Chris tried to meet his eyes to continue the conversation, but held it with the teachers, insisting they were doing nothing wrong. “PJ’s daft about this stuff… Did you help him work it out?”_

_“I noticed it in English class today,” Chris whispered, not answering the question. He had urgency to his tone, “We’re gonna get caught for talking, you know?”_

_“Whatever, this is important to me, Chris,” Phil whined._

_“How long has this been going on?”_

_“Nothing’s been_ going on _, Chris.” Phil explained. “I’m pretty sure he doesn’t swing that way, anyway. I just have a crush on him, is all.”_

 _Chris rolled his eyes, laughing under his breath. “Oh, Phil, you_ tosser _,” Phil glared at him, eyebrows raised. “Have you seen the way he looks at you?!”_

“Phil! Chris! Stop talking!” _The teacher warned, from the front of the class with a fist raised._

_“Told you…”_

Phil waited for Chris and PJ by their lockers, thoughts of Dan consuming him. Chris looked at him, sideways, eyebrows raised as if to say _‘What are you doing here? Go!’_. Phil nodded, and took off in the other direction.

He felt a rush pumping through his veins as he dodged others in the hallway. As he reached the Music Room door, he sucked in a deep breath, calming himself. He slid his fingers through his fringe, fixing it back into place. Opening the Music Room door, he was greeted to the same darkness as had that morning. But this time, something was different.

Dan sat on the seats, hands clasped together over his hidden head. His body was curled into a ball, and Phil thought he looked precious and small. Dan lifted his head, surprised at the sudden entrance, and then suddenly bashful. “Phil?” he squeaked out, small and nervous, as if he was ready to swallow up the words again.

Dan stood up immediately, brushing off his backside out of habit as he stood. He played with the strap on his bag, nervous. A breeze swept through the curtains, letting the sunlight twirl on his face for a bare moment, decorating his cheekbones and lips, before he was swept into the darkness again. Phil stood by the door, guilt overflowing inside him – he couldn’t even remember if the reason he came was good enough.

“What… uh, are you doing? H-Here?” Dan stuttered, shuffling forward a little bit. He scratched the back of his head, at the nape of his neck, anxious.

Phil’s mouth was open, cheeks pink and wondering what-on-earth-to-say. “U-U-U-I… I, uh, um… I,” he insanely stuttered. What was he even supposed to say? Phil flipped through excuses in his head, over and over, until, “Lunch…” stumbled out of his mouth, without him even realising, and bouncing to the floor like a deflated balloon. Dan stood dead-silent, barely breathing, tossing the lie over in his head.

Phil turned back for the door, embarrassed. Dan stopped him, arm outstretched and voice still quiet. “P-Phil, you were here at first lunch, right?” Phil turned, met with Dan, nervous and flustered, cupped hands to his chest. “How much did you hear?” he said, but it uttered out of him as barely a whisper.

It was Phil’s turn to take a step toward Dan. He blushed deeply, hiding his head behind his falling fringe. Phil’s heart was in his throat; Dan had never uttered a word to him, it filled him with a strange yet settling warm feeling in his chest. “I only heard a bit,” he admitted. “But – your singing! You have a re-,”

“Shh,” Dan interrupted, sticking a finger in the air. Suddenly embarrassed at his rude outburst, he brought his hands back to his chest, stepping back. “Please, don’t tell anyone…” He murmured, the words falling out of his mouth, broken and hurt. This was his _secret_.

Phil was shocked, but he didn’t understand. “What? W-Why?!” He took a step closer, softening his voice, “Dan, you’re _really_ good,” he insisted, disobeying Dan’s plea. He took another step towards the brunet, who kept his head down.

“No – I’m not,” he swore. He only had one question, “Why are you here, Phil?” It sounded demanding, dripping off his tongue with a strange mixture of evil and injured. He truly didn’t mean to sound so harsh. He cringed at his near malicious tone, feeling guilt shiver up his spine.

This was all such a mess. Phil had no reason to be there, other than genuine, selfish curiosity. Dan sounded nasty, but he was just scared. And everything was falling to pieces before them. Phil only had one thing he could say. “I’m so sorry,” he trembled. He took a step closer, and to his surprise, Dan did too. Dan was staring straight into his eyes, the deep brown abyss piercing into Phil’s ocean blue.

“Why, though?” They were a few steps apart, but Dan swore as he said this, Phil could hear his heartbeat slamming against his ribs.

Phil couldn’t decide whether this was the moment for truth, or a little white lie. He was silent, breathing uneven as he decided what he could possibly say. Phil answered with the first thing that came to his head, “I wanted to see if you were joining Band Club.” Dan cocked his head to the side, confused. “I was thinking about it, and wanted to see if anyone I knew was joining…” And now, he has to join Band Club.

Dan smiled softly, honoured. He felt warm in his heart, a soft yellow glow. No one had ever thought of him as ‘someone they knew’, it made his heart flutter. Even better, the boy he fancied considered him so. Thinking about this, a grin settled on his face, teeth shining. He looked so sweet in this moment, Phil wishes he could take a photo. Dan took a few steps closer, sudden confidence washing over him, until he was just before Phil. This made Phil smile gently, surprised. “I’ll join,” Dan reasoned, “If you will.”

Phil nodded, “I will join, then.”

Dan realised as he said this that he was the reason Phil was joining, this fact flushing his smile-squashed cheeks. As he settled, he realised a flaw in their deal, and hurried to reply, “You won’t mention I sing, right? Or, that I write my own music?” Dan hid his face, fringe falling over his eyes and disguising his quivering lips.

Phil recognised that this was something Dan would rather hide. He had no idea _why_. Dan seemed to be incredibly talented and creative, it was such a waste to keep it hidden. He would ask later, of course, if he got the chance too. “I won’t,” he assured, “I don’t know a lot about making music… But, I think you’re astounding, and I’m sure so many others would too!” he exclaimed, trying to encourage the small-in-presence boy before him.

“That’s just the thing Phil – they won’t.” He muttered, matter-of-factly. He was hugged his arms to his chest, walking toward the door. “I’ll sign up for the club,” he smiled politely, grabbing a pen from his book bag. “I’ll see you on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons until four,” he laughed, shutting the door behind him.

Phil laughed. At Dan’s joke, and at himself.

 

**Dan**

When I was thirteen, I wrote a poem.

It was about being lonely, having no friends, and the like. It wasn’t very good, nor poetic, just a bunch of my innermost thoughts scribbled in the back of my English book. I was particularly proud of it, though, and it was suggested to me that I turned it into a song, hence my love of music, too. I took this advice.

My first song only had a guitar and a piano for instrumentals, along with my voice, singing the poem. I used my laptop to record it, it was choppy and fuzzy sounding. I remember feeling incredibly embarrassed, knowing my family could hear everything I was singing. To this day, no one has heard the finished piece, nor any of my others.

In all my works, deleted or not, this was probably my worst. But, I never got rid of it. For sentiments sake? For inspiration? For pure memorabilia? I can’t decide. Sometimes I still listen to it – it’s deep under multiple files on my computer.

This began my adoration for producing my own music. I immediately fell in love with creating new pieces; learning new instruments, stringing together beautiful sentences, shuffling recordings around on professional music-making software (I worked all summer to pay for it). These songs were all sacred to me, I’m scared to release them into the world, the unknown, for people to hear.

Terrified of judgement, of hatred, of failure, and I’m still waiting for my dream to come alive. I know I can’t inspire anyone until I gather myself together enough to publish my music, but maybe my dream is just finding the courage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember, feedback is very much enjoyed! I love receiving your comments, and your messages and prompts on my tumblr @fivepixelphan. See you there?


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~You find out a little bit more background info on the characters!~  
> Phil convinces Dan to sing for him, and in this new mess of emotions, confessions occur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo! Are you enjoying it? Remember to leave feedback for me :p no warnings in this chapter he

**Phil**

I love taking photos. I love capturing a moment – this one instant in my life will never happen again, but if you take a photo, it’s with you wherever you go.

My phone is filled with pictures of my friends under a warm summer’s glow with smiles splitting their faces gracefully, sunsets and rainy days, and plants and lady bugs. I take pictures mostly of beautiful things. I even have a Canon 550D at home, which I take a bunch of photos on. It, too, is filled with silly photos. I take this camera on holidays, and to group hangouts. Chris and PJ usually hate when I take impromptu photos of them, but I have captured some of their most precious candid moments.

It’s just a simple hobby, I don’t plan on making it my future career, and I don’t take photography classes in school. Still, my photos come out rather beautifully, at least in my opinion. The most important part to me is keeping a moment alive forevermore.

 

**Third Person**

Phil followed Dan to his locker after a particularly boring English lesson. They were headed off to their first Band Club meeting. In all honesty, Phil wasn’t looking forward to it. He’d only said he’d sign up as an excuse to keep from strife when he met Dan in the music room. He shrugged it off, knowing that it was an extra hour with Dan, just the two of them (and the whole club, but never mind that).

Dan was excited. His heart fluttered when he thought about it, and his stomach flipped at the thought of it being just the two of them. Plus, he got even more instrumental practice. He didn’t like, however, the performing part. But, considering his speciality was piano, he could probably hide up the back of the orchestra.

“Ready for Band Club?” Phil asked, smiling widely.

Dan hugged his books to his chest. “Yes, I am,” he grinned. He clicked open his locker, shoving his books on top of the mess of papers and various textbooks inside. Phil noticed a MUSE lyric scrawled in messy permanent marker on the inner corner of the door, ‘ _paradise comes at a price that i am not prepared to pay’_. Phil recognised it, being a huge fan of the band himself, and wondered what Dan meant by it. “Are _you_ ready for Band Club?” Dan joked, sliding his locker shut.

As they approached the Music Room, they noticed people entering and a murmur of voices inside. Entering, Dan noted in his head how everyone’s heads less than discreetly turned, eyes wide as Phil arrived with Dan by his side. He knew Phil wasn’t _popular_ , like in American Teen Movies, but he knew Phil and his friends were pretty well liked. And, this was probably the first time some of them had even observed Dan, eyebrows knitted together.

They sat beside each other on the far Band Seats, where Dan sat in the lunch they first spoke. About thirty other students spread across the seats and scattered across the floor. Dan recognised all of them, but the only one he’d ever spoken too was Corey Wilson. He rattled drumsticks playfully against the black seats, thrumming to his own beat. He’d only spoken to Dan because he wanted to see how many instruments Dan played. To his dismay, Dan played six more than he.

Everyone was silenced, after a few minutes, as they selected their roles. Everyone was assigned the instruments they already knew, and any students who knew multiple, selected a particular one or shoved into a section that didn’t have enough. Phil chose violin over guitar, not because he knew it better, which he did, but because Dan chose piano over everything else, and it would mean they’d sit together.

“You can really play _that_ many instruments?!” Phil asked, face covered with a look of adoration and shock in one. He tuned his violin, sitting it in his lap precariously. Dan watched in horror as he fiddled with the tuning pegs, worried that at any moment, the violin would fall to the floor and be obliterated.

Dan nodded, smiling gently, complimented by the looked on Phil’s face. He pressed a few keys on the keyboard in front of him (which, in real life, should be a grand piano. But, he accepted that this was just a high school, and no one cared), practicing a slightly more complex tune from his most recent song. “My dad taught me! It’s good for, you know…” He blushed, “Song writing…”

Phil grinned, tongue sliding out from between his teeth. “What do you write about?” He wondered whether the question was too personal, if Dan didn’t want to share. He was already keeping it secret enough, maybe he didn’t feel comfortable. When Dan blushed a beet-red, he wanted to swallow his question back up.

Dan wondered what to say. He usually wrote songs about love and being lonely all the time. One time, he wrote a song about his favourite video game, and another time he made up a story. But, that didn’t count, did it? “Lots of things,” he answered, letting his fingers drop onto the keyboard, various notes ringing aloud atrociously. “Really, what the superstars of today write about,” he admitted.

Phil nodded, “Oh,” he replied. What did idols sing about? Usually romance or betrayal. Phil blushed. One day, he hoped, Dan would let him listen to a song he’d carefully created.  

Then, as Band Club carried away, the two chat as if they were old friend being reunited. There was hardly a moment of silence between them. They practiced from their sheet music, talking over the top of their instruments. They talked about everything and nothing – Dan even held conversation without fear. He believed that maybe Phil was perfect for him. The thought made him feel settled and comfortable and warm, like a hug.

Once four o’clock rolled around, they were saddened to leave, but only left with a quick wave. As Dan walked the halls back to his locker, he felt elated. He felt so happy, his soul felt like it was trying to fly. He blushed – he’d made his first friend in a long time.

Walking along, recounting their conversation in his head, he heard jogging footsteps his way. He turned around, standing before Phil. Phil looked a little awkward, and fairly dishevelled. He fixed his fringe, and muttered, slightly nervous, “If you don’t mind, can I come hang out with you in the Music Room tomorrow?” He asked, then before Dan could answer, he rejected himself. “I mean; I totally understand if you don’t want too. You know what? Don’t eve-.”

“Yes please. That would be nice.”

 

**Dan**

In the past, I’ve wondered whether I should post my music online, or perform my songs.

It’s been suggested to me by my family on multiple occasions, but I’m just too scared. Sure, it’s what I want to do. I want to be famous for making music and inspiring others. I want nothing more. But there’s so much holding me back.

Fear of judgement; fear of failure. I would be opening myself to the whole world, and sure, I could create a persona but I just don’t think that’s what I aim for. And, whilst I want to be famous, I still want moments where I can keep to myself, travel the streets and sidewalks without cameras in my face. Like an Enigma.

Maybe I’m being too picky. I want a life where I’m finally noticed.

**Third Person**

Dan was nervous for lunch the next day, legs shaking as he managed his way to the Music Room. After all, Dan had never shown anyone his music making process. Phil was a friend he’d just made, and whilst secretly liking Phil, he also admired him. The way he could smoothly hold conversation, easily make friends, and share his creative mind to no limits; Dan thought he was unbelievable, the equivalent to a shining star miles and miles away – out of reach. He wondered if he was just another addition to Phil’s friend list.

Opening the door to the Music Room, he was greeted with the familiar darkness, but today it seemed to swallow him whole instead of welcome him. _I’m too worried_ , he decided, setting himself down behind the band seats.

“Hey, guys!” Phil called for the pair’s attention. They both turned their heads away from Chris’s locker, where he pulled out a neatly packaged cupcake, and handed it to PJ. PJ grinned, thankful. “I won’t be at lunch, okay?” He didn’t need their permission, not at all. He just liked it.

“What?! Aw, come on, Phil!” PJ whined, picking at the paper wrapping around his salad sandwich. “Why?”

“You know,” Chris snickered, placing his books in his locker. He shut it and slid the lock in, checking to see if he really had locked it, twice. “With that boy from English Class!” He guessed, correctly. When Phil rolled his eyes, Chris and PJ fell into a fit of giggles.

“Okay,” Phil admitted, “Maybe I am.” He raised his hands in defence, and his friends settled themselves down. Chris awed sweetly, blushing when Phil did, bringing his hands to his chest and grinning ear-to-ear. Phil stuck out his thumb, “Wish me luck!” he chanted. The other two stuck up their thumbs, too.

It had been ten minutes since the bell had rung. Dan, worried Phil had abandoned him, pulled out Song Book #3 – which only had eleven clean pages left – and began doing a rough sketch of some notes. Phil, worried _Dan_ had abandoned _him_ , rushed through the halls. As he approached the door, he slammed his hand down on the handle and swung the door open. “Dan?” he called, almost hopelessly.

Dan, surprised, quickly tried to pack his notebook away, not wanting Phil to see all of his heart’s innermost thoughts. “I’m here!” He replied, fumbling about. He shoved his pen back into his pencil case, and closed the book, which for _some reason_ , decided _right now_ was the perfect time to drop a bunch of papers from the inside and scatter them across the floor. Attempting to gather them in the order they originally were kept, he felt his heart beat thumping in his ears, so nervous his brain could melt out of his ears.

It was too late to hide the book, as Phil peered around from the front side of the seats. “Is that your songbook?” He asked, politely and cautiously, in case the question was too intrusive. Dan nodded, trying to push the papers back into the book. Phil bent down to the floor were Dan sat, helping him scoop up the sheets and put them back inside. Dan whispered a thank you, grabbing the rubber bands and tying the book back together. Phil was impressed at its size, as Dan shoved it back into his back pack.

Phil knew better than to look at the notes written on the sheets, or ask to see some of his newer songs. One thing he truly wanted, though, was to hear Dan sing again. He knew Dan wasn’t confident in his abilities, and he wanted to encourage that silk-smooth voice to be heard. “Um, I hope this doesn’t sound weird,” he confessed, “I was wondering if I could hear you sing again?”

Dan gulped, surprised. Suddenly embarrassed, he sputtered, “Uh, I, I-I’m not good!” His voice came out almost like a squeal, his fingernails meeting his teeth as he chewed nervously. His posture was directly upright and straight, shoulders bent inwards as if protecting himself. Phil brought his knees up to his chest, looking into Dan’s eyes with hope. Dan watched them carefully, searching for a flickering emotion, but Phil remained optimistic. He dropped his head, “What if you don’t like it?” he asked, giving up.

Phil watched in silence as Dan began to shake lightly, as if he were fighting tears back. He thought about it all, Dan and his music. How, Dan never really had any friends, and how he’d turned to music because and when he was lonely. It became his inspiration, and the thing that kept him going. So, if someone didn’t like his music, did Dan fear they wouldn’t like what made him, him? Phil didn’t think that Dan was just his music, in fact, he didn’t even know this was what Dan did. But, did Dan believe that all he is, is his compositions?

Before Dan could inevitably panic, Phil assured, “Of course I’ll like it!” He grinned. He placed a hand on the tiled floor, between he and Dan. “I already heard some before, and it was exceptional, Dan! I had no words!”

Dan giggled, lifting his head up, his watery eyes meeting Phil’s ocean blue ones. “You were stuttering a lot.” He smiled, thinking back to yesterday, when Phil had turned up in this very room and admitted to listening to him sing. He wiped his thumbs across his cheeks, trying to hide the evidence that he was crying, but even in the dark Phil could see the tear streaks staining pink on his cheeks. After a moment of silence, he sighed, “It’s just… My music means a lot to me, and I’ve never really shared it with anyone before…”

“That’s okay,” Phil explained. “You don’t have to sing anything of your own. I’d just like to hear you sing again – anything, even the most popular song right now!” He sounded oddly desperate, he realised, as Dan raised an eyebrow. All he wanted was to prove to Dan just how heavenly he was.

“Okay,” Dan replied, shakily. He stood up from the floor with a wobble, and dragged the keyboard closer to him, sitting on a stool. He beckoned Phil with a wave of his hand, and Phil shuffled closer. Resting his fingers on the keys – he couldn’t believe he was going through with this – he pressed down, and began playing the first few notes of an old favourite song, _Tenerife Sea_. He only sung a few lyrics.

_We are surrounded by all these lies,_

_And people who talk too much._

_You got the kind of look in your eyes,_

_As if no one knows anything but us._

_Should this be the last thing I see,_

_I want you to know it’s enough for me._

_Because all that you are is all that I’ll ever need…_

He slowly released his hands from the keys, opening his eyes and looking to Phil for acceptance.

All Phil could do was stare in awe, totally fascinated, eyes glimmering in adoration. The way Dan’s voice washed over him, and the way his fingers delicately and elegantly glided over the keyboard with ease – everything was so perfect. Phil’s lip quivered as he barely uttered out, “Oh my God…”

Dan breathily chuckled, switching off the keyboard. The microphones fizzled out and he asked as politely as possible, “What did you think?”

Phil remained silent, staring at Dan with astonishment gleaming in his eyes. He stuttered out his praise, “Th-That was perfect… Amazing-g. Real-ly, truly, amazing!!” He bounced up and down in his chair excitedly, feeling a bit more comfortable. “I would never have thought you’d be _that_ good.” He grinned, expressing his honesty whole-heartedly.

“Thank you,” Dan smiled, blushing. “So much.” He clutched his shirt into his fist where his chest was, feeling the fabric between his fingers and the warmest emotion seeping within him. Dan stood up, turning around. Phil, afraid Dan was leaving so soon, stood up to stop him. Instead, Dan grabbed a guitar, sticking it out in front of Phil. “Can you play anything?”

***** *** *****

At second lunch, Phil joined his best friends again at the table. They sat across the seats, facing each other, sharing their meals and gentle conversation. He jogged up to the table, leaping onto the seat and scaring the both of them. “Hello,” he greeted, poking his tongue out. “You two aren’t hiding anything,” he whispered, and the pair shuffled away from each other, blushing.

Each boy had a cheeky smirk on their face, but PJ was the first to say anything. “Hey,” he sung, twirling his fingers in the air, “How was your date?” He dragged out the words, mimicking an opera singer.

“How’s things?” Chris asked, a lot more modestly, but Phil knew that he was referring to the same thing as he smirked behind his hand.

Phil blushed at the accusation as they wiggled their eyebrows. “Oi!” He laughed, rolling his eyes, “What do you think happened? You _perverts_.” The two opposite him burst into laughter, cackling gleefully, and Phil joined in. After they settled down, Chris and PJ asked what _really_ happened, and Phil explained all. From the moment he met Dan in the Music Room the first time, to Band Club, to Dan singing for him and Phil playing the guitar for Dan.

“Awe, that sounds really sweet, Phil!” Chris cooed. He rubbed PJ’s knee beneath the table, smiling at him. The way Phil’s eyes sparkled and the way he gushed about the adventures of first lunch, it made Chris remember what he felt like when he met PJ.

“Yeah!” Phil grinned. “And, we agreed to meet every first lunch! I’m so happy…” Phil’s voice fell hazy and his eyes became distant as he fell into daydream.

“But, Phil, you said Dan wants it kept secret that he can sing. Was it okay for you to tell us?” A group of students ran by throwing a football over their heads, halting their conversation as they ran off, continuing to play and yell. “I mean, it’s obviously a very private thing. Do you realise how _lucky_ you are?” Phil and Chris were surprised to hear this from PJ, who was usually unconsciously selfish and absentminded. Chris turned to him, mouth agape, shocked he would utter such a thoughtful thing about someone he didn’t know. “What?!” PJ exclaimed, offended they didn’t think so nicely of him.

After a moment of consideration, Phil bit his thumbnail, “You’re right,” he admitted. “But, he’s so wonderful! I had to tell someone,” he muttered guiltily, scratching paint off the table.

Chris smiled softly, a mixture of emotions running through him. He wanted to help Phil reach out to the boy of his dreams, but he knew this was something his best friend had to do himself.

***** *** *****

It had been two months of meeting every first break to hang out in the Music Room. Not one break was missed, at all. Sometimes, especially during mid-term exam block, the two wouldn’t make music and instead study together. It had become less about playing music and more about spending time with each other, although neither admitted that. For both, it had become about spending time with the person they cherish deeply, and in precious secret.

Phil stood in front of the Music Room door. The Band Club poster had been removed, the ripped corners still stuck to the door evidence of its haphazard removal. Replacing it was a Chemistry Club poster, tacked just a centimetre to the right of where the previous poster was. It made something churn in Phil’s chest – hurt? The Band Club held something of importance to him now. The new poster had a picture of Toby Hogan, a senior nerd, in his thick-rimmed glasses and three-haired goatee, holding a beaker with a pink, cloudy liquid inside.

He felt a tapping on his shoulder, followed by a sweet voice, “Hey, you. Whatcha doing?” Phil turned to see Dan’s smiling face, lips curved upwards in a grin with squished, pink cheeks and deep dimples. “Ready to play some music?”

Sitting behind the levelled seats, Phil strummed his fingers across the guitar strings absentmindedly, from behind Dan’s laptop. Dan pulled different pieces of recorded music into place on his laptop, headphones plugged in. Dan still hadn’t let anyone, not even Phil, listen to his music. It was hard enough making it in front of him, terrified that Phil would ask questions. It was a big step for him, and Phil understood this.

Phil heard a gentle mumbling, looking up from his guitar. Dan mumbled something-or-rather to himself and clicked away, chin rested on one hand.  “You mumble,” Phil pointed out, smirking and strumming the strings one last time. Dan darted his head up, chuckling heartily.

“It’s company,” he muttered, laughing again before realising what a strange thing he’d admitted too. Phil giggled at Dan’s blushing face, bouncing on his seat a little. Dan shut his laptop then, pushing his lyric book he’d been reading from to the side. In changing the subject, “Do you know any songs on there? Dan asked, nodding towards Phil’s guitar.

Phi looked down at the guitar, thin lines of light reflecting off the guitar strings, thinking. He’d tried learning songs before, but had only successfully learnt a fairly easy one he’d heard in a movie once. He wasn’t sure a lot of people knew thing song, and he wasn’t sure he remembered the notes, either. But, it was a simple song with a gentle rhythm, and it was worth a shot to see if Dan knew it (But Phil doubted he didn’t). “I only know one, I don’t know if you know it, though…” Dan sat up straighter in his seat, opening his body language like he’d seen Phil do when he encouraged him to sing, and gently smiled. “It’s called _Anyone Else But You_ ,” Phil stammered, blushing a little bit.

Dan bounced in his seat like Phil had done, “I know that song!!” He grinned, teeth all showing and pink lips spread. Hiding a little bit now and playing with his fingers, asked, “Can we play it?” He flicked his fringe away from his eyes, “I mean… You play guitar, and I sing?”

Phil pulled the guitar pick from between the strings, smiling. If it was Dan’s invitation, he wouldn’t refuse. He nodded, grinning wider than ever and strumming the first few notes. Dan’s heart hammered in his chest – he was so nervous. He wouldn’t back out though, no. Phil’s acceptance meant so much to him, in fact, probably more than anyone else’s. But, a voice in the back of Dan’s heard whispered _He already loves it enough_.

And, goodness, this was such a sweet and romantic song, Dan realised. He blushed just thinking of some of the lyrics. Taking a deep breath, he began to sing the words:

_You’re a part-time lover and a full-time friend,_

_The monkey on your back is the latest trend._

_I don’t see wat anyone can see in anyone else,_

_But you._

Phil’s breath hitched after the first verse. He inwardly swooned as the romantic words of one of his favourite songs flowed from the pretty boy’s mouth in a beautiful melody. Dan had his eyes closed, eyelashes fluttering as he ran over the notes. Phil could hardly breathe, fingers fumbling slightly over the strings, unnoticeably.

_‘Kiss you on the brain in the shadow of the train,_

_‘Kiss you all starry eyed, my body swinging from side to side._

_I don’t see what anyone can see in anyone else,_

_But you._

Dan opened his eyes as he sang that verse, focus falling on Phil, smiling softly. Phil ducked his head, embarrassed that he’d been caught staring at Dan. He blushed, staring at his lap.

_Here is the church, and here is the steeple._

_We sure are cute for two ugly people._

_I don’t see what anyone can see in anyone else,_

_But you._

They were staring at each other now, eyes gliding over each other’s features in awe. Both too small to think anything of it, but each time their eyes met, if only for a second, they felt something. Something warm, soft and delicate. It was strange, and neither had felt such an emotion before. Dan felt a hot, red blood come into his cheeks as he realised he’d never let his music feel so intimate with anyone before.

_The pebbles forgive me, the trees forgive me,_

_So why can’t you forgive me?_

_I don’ see what anyone can see in anyone else,_

_But you…_

Phil stopped playing after this verse, too absorbed in all of Dan – his voice, his hair, his abyss-brown eyes. As Dan realised Phil had stopped playing, he slowed his singing to a halt, cocking his head to the side in confusion. The two were suddenly submerged in a comfortable and curious silence.

Phil stared at Dan, spotting all the smaller things about him. The way his dimples caved in by his mouth, how his brown eyes sparkled almost golden when he laughed, and how his hair curved at the tips, and how his palms brushed the curling tips away after meticulously pressing the strands between his fingertips in efforts to straighten them out. How his shoulders turned to the left ever so slightly when laughing, how his cheeks blotched red when he was embarrassed. And, if Phil looked hard enough, he could spot the beginnings of freckles dotted along the bridge of his nose.

“Phil…” Dan pulled him out of his trance, voice calling for him. Dan’s eyelashes fluttered in confusion. Phil decided, then, that Dan had quite a fairy-like beauty. When Dan called his name for a second time, he properly concentrated and pulled his focus to what Dan had to say. “You’re staring at me,” he muttered, hiding his face behind his fringe.

And then, Phil cracked. Like thunder against a cloud. Like the seam on an old pair of jeans. Like someone who just couldn’t handle their pent up emotions anymore, Phil whispered, “You’re really pretty.” As realisation sunk in he almost choked on the words that had already left his mouth and danced through Dan’s ears. He immediately worried he’d fucked everything up – any chance of them being together, despite his belief of its slimness. Their friendship, too, newly found but already so beautiful. Phil didn’t know where the conversation would go from here, but he only half regretted his words; at least he spoke the truth.

Dan stuttered slightly, “T-Thank you,” his pink lips pulled into a soft smile, bashful. He tried to keep his breathing calm, but his heart leapt out of his chest in a mismatch rhythm, as if reaching for Phil on its own. He knew he had to say something – a confession, or a reply. But nothing legible formed in his head, which had suddenly turned to mush in his shocked and in-love state. His mind cluttered with a thousand emotions, each one screaming out suddenly like raindrops on a tin roof. He opened his mouth and let the words stutter out, without thinking, “I-I think you are too.”

Embarrassed by his lame reply, Dan hid his face behind his hands. Phil giggled lightly, despite the sudden romantic mood. “You’re cute,” he complimented again.

Neither knew what the hell was going on – confessing was something neither of them had experienced before. Despite this, they let it continue anyway. Dan crept forward on his seat until their knees were touching. They chatted with subtle flirtation and whispered secrets, not noticing their subconscious attempts to ease closer to each other. The only thing keeping them apart was the guitar in Phil’s lap, which he moved to the side.

As he placed it on the floor he looked back up at Dan, and their eyes met, suddenly silencing them. A feeling like electricity zapped through their veins, as their eyes flickered over each other’s faces. They were so close, Dan could feel Phil’s trembling breath against his cheek, and his own heartbeat batting against his ribcage and leaping out for Phil again, more desperate than ever before.

Too scared to make a proper move, Dan pressed their foreheads together. Eye to eye, so close it they were out of focus. Phil understood, and as the braver one, knew it was his obligation to make the first move: to connect them. Dan held his breath, feelings of hope and angst swirling through him in an exhilarating concoction. He almost couldn’t take it anymore.

Phil hovered one hand on Dan’s shoulder, never breaking eye-contact, the other hand of the nape of Dan’s neck. Dan’s hair was soft, his fingers brushing through it slightly. Dan couldn’t focus, head fuzzy and heartbeat bouncing in his ears. Phil pulled Dan closer, finally pressing their lips together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> check out my tumblr @fivepixelphan for updates etc. :o


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's this new poster on the door? And why is Dan so fixated on it? Also, first kiss?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi hi! In an energetic mood! Here's chapter five, lovelies :p

**Dan**

I’d never kissed anyone before. It feels strange, but exciting.

I feel warm in my heart, but my face is red and hot. I can feel my eyelashes bat against Phil’s cheek, because we are so close. I could hold this moment forever, engrave each second into my mind. It feels magical, just like they said it would in the movies. I just hope I’m doing it right…

Phil’s lips are slightly chapped, but I doubt mine are any better. They’re still somehow soft and nurturing. I can feel Phil smiling into the kiss. This is a moment, that seems to go in slow motion, I will treasure until the end of time.

 

**Phil**

He’s cute. Too cute, even to comprehend!

He clutches onto the open sides of my jacket, thumbing the zipper’s edges. He pulls me closer this way, never breaking our lips apart. He whimpers lightly, and I can tell it’s his first kiss when he doesn’t realise. I turn red hot in my cheeks; I feel honoured.

His lips are rough but he makes up for it in his delicate yet needy kiss. When he pulls away, I immediately want him closer again.

 

**Third Person**

Dan pulled back, breathless. He ran his fingers over his newly-kissed lips, relishing in the adrenaline of post-first-kiss. He smiled at Phil, with nothing to say. Phil, grinning back, whispered, “T-That was nice…” He pulled his bottom lip under his top teeth, biting nervously. Dan felt like he’d permanently blush; he’d been constantly red all lunch break. He dropped his head onto Phil shoulder, who giggled in a playful manner, “You’re so cute,” he said again, quieter yet all the more authentic.

Dan gasped, surprised, then giggled after processing, “You said that already…”

“It’s true.”

He placed a hand on the back of Dan’s head and pulled him closer, and Dan almost went crazy. Dan was tall, but Phil was taller, and Dan’s head rest snugly against his chest, and Phil’s arms wrapped around him securely and protectively. Dan’s heart beat pressed against Phil’s stomach, racing constantly. No one had ever shown him friendship, or affection of this sort. He felt almost abnormal. “Thank you,” Dan whispered, unsure of how to accept the compliment.

Phil lifted Dan’s chin up, fingers brushing the skin delicately, until they were staring into each other’s eyes again. Dan asked for another kiss, shy and squeaky. Phil simply nodded, grin as wide as ever before, and pressed their lips together. Their kiss moved in a steady, clean rhythm, desperate but not wild. Dan clung onto Phil again, absentmindedly, falling closer to him in more ways than physical. Phil moved his hands to the small of Dan’s back, making another whimper creep from Dan’s mouth.

Dan leaped backwards, slapping his hand over his mouth. His pale hand contrasted against his red face, and his brown eyes sat wide and startled. Phil chuckled, but not in a nasty, teasing way. Dan went to mumble his apologies, but Phil whispered, “It’s fine.” When Dan didn’t relax, and sat with his knees drawn to his chest, Phil took it upon himself to lean over to where Dan sat, and capture Dan’s lips in his own. Dan melted, wrapping his arms around Phil’s neck and embracing his warmth.

He wanted to stay like this forever, but something stirred within him. He waited until his lips began to hurt a little bit, before pulling back. Phil looked worried as his gaze drifted to the floor, and he whispered, “What… What does this make us?” He knew the question had to be answered, however awkward it may be; the movies and the books and the magazines-in-doctor-waiting-rooms told him so.

But as it came out of his mouth, contradictory thoughts began swirling in his head. What if Phil didn’t even think of him that way?! What if he wasn’t serious about these things? He began to regret asking, as Phil pulled away, staking a step back from the embrace.

Dan began to panic, mortified he’d uttered such a thing. But then, Phil smiled, “What do you want us to be?” His smile was reassuring and forgiving, and his hand brushed against Dan’s shoulder. Dan, too nervous to say anything, only took a step forward. When Phil caught on that he was anxious, he whispered, “I was thinking… Maybe…” He left his hands fall on Dan’s hips. “We could be-,” he kissed Dan’s forehead. “Boyfriends?” He asked, kissing Dan’s lips softly.

Dan searched through his head for something to say. No romantic movie or young-adult novel would prepare him for such a thing. Phil’s surprising yet romantic actions made Dan’s heart thunder. He dropped his head against Phil’s chest and pulled him closer in a hug. Phil could feel Dan’s heart beating against his chest, and inwardly gushed.

“I would love that,” Dan whispered, giggling when Phil’s face beamed happiness.

***** *** *****

Phil didn’t turn up to second lunch.

Chris used a plastic fork to pick away at a salad, pushing the leafy greens to the side with a grimace. PJ sat opposite him, scrolling through something on his phone with a paper-box of chips in front of him. Chris poked one with his fork and popped it into his mouth, before dropping his fork into his salad with a sigh. PJ didn’t look up, instead sticking his hand in the middle of the table, palm up and awaiting Chris’s hand. Too shy to interlock their fingers in front of everyone else, he swirled his index finger in the centre. “What’s wrong?” PJ asked.

“Phil’s not here… It just doesn’t feel right.” Chris admitted, writing letters with his finger, now. “I mean, I got used to him being gone at first lunch, but I worry now that he’s not here.” A bunch of students were walking in their direction, so Chris pulled his hand away and tucked it back by his side. He blushed a baby pink when he pushed PJ’s hand away, too, when PJ didn’t realise the coming group.

“What do you think he’s doing?” PJ asked, shutting off his phone and glancing up at Chris.

“More like _who_ …” Chris whispered. PJ spluttered into laughter, cackling so much his stomach hurt. “He’s hanging out with Dan again, right?”

“I guess so?” PJ agreed, but it sounded more like a question. He sighed. “We should be happy for him though,” he looked up into the trees as the wind danced between the leaves. “He might get what we have,” he smiled softly to himself. Chris gasped, looking to PJ, eyes sparkling with love and adoration.

In the Music Room, Dan sat on Phil’s lap, cradled in his arms. His hands locked together around Phil’s neck, and Phil’s hands pressed against the small of Dan’s back, securing him. And, they were kissing. They hadn’t stopped.

Phil didn’t worry about going too fast. Dan was too shy to do anything other than kiss, or sing (which was immensely flattering to Phil). But, Phil was okay with that. Dan pulled back from the kiss, catching his breath and brushing his hair out of his face. Phil had at least had some practice, and could maintain his composure for longer. He tucked one of Dan’s curls behind his ear, smoothing out his fringe.

“Aren’t your friends worried about where you are?” Dan asked.

“Aren’t yours?”

The question fell through Dan like a tonne of bricks. He dropped his arms from Phil’s neck and tried to shuffle off of Phil’s lap, but his secure arms kept him there. He suddenly felt trapped and mortified, dropping his head and trying to push off of Phil. The subject was a touchy one, it broke Dan’s heart every time it was brought up. And the situation was only made worse when his new boyfriend discovers this friendless-fact. When Phil wouldn’t let go, Dan gave up, finally admitting it. “I don’t have any.” He whispered.

It felt like one weight fell off his shoulders and another was added on. He’d never confessed to having no friends before. It was always ‘They’re too busy,’ or, ‘I have other interests’. But admitting this to Phil felt scary. Phil had tonnes of friends, but of course only hung out with Chris and PJ. He was so much cooler than Dan, and Dan worried this was a damaging factor. “I thought everyone knew that.”

“Oh,” was all Phil replied with.

Then the panic really set in. What if Phil thought there was an awful, bigoted reason behind this? What if Phil tried to save him? What if he deserted him, too? Dan chewed on the edge of his thumbnail. Was it strange to get carried away about something so simple? It was justified, right? No one had ever taken notice of him, liked him or cared for him.

Phil grabbed the hand Dan was furiously chewing at, stopping him in his tracks. He brushed the pad of his thumb over Dan’s knuckles, pulling Dan closer to him, too. He lifted Dan’s head up and look directly into his eyes. “You’re my friend, you’re more than that, as well.” He smiled, kissing the back of Dan’s hand like he was asking for a dance in a romance movie. “And now, my friends are yours,” he assured.

Dan smiled softly, ever so grateful for Phil’s seemingly never-ending kindness. He pressed their foreheads together, sighing. “But, what if they don’t like me,” he mumbled, playing with his fingers.

Phil rubbed Dan’s back, “If they like you half as much as I do, you’ll get along just fine,” he assured, a giant grin on his face. “You don’t have to worry, I’m here for you.”

Dan replied with the best thank you he could offer in that moment; a passionate kiss.

***** *** *****

**Dan**

For the first three weeks, Phil and I kept our relationship secret from everyone except each other. We’d meet every first lunch, like usual. We still played music and studied, but with this we also kissed and hugged. One time, when he was too tired to do anything, we lay on the band seats, with only each other as pillows. We talk about everything and nothing, I feel like I know so much about him. I really, truly adore him.

Phil tells me stories about Chris and PJ, and how they’re constantly asking about us two. Phil thinks they already know we’re together, because they understand these things. He told me they want to hang out with me one time, which made me gush. No one has ever said that about me before! Phil wants to introduce us, and told them to wait for that moment.

We’re constantly stealing glances in every class we have together. I try so hard to concentrate – it’s final year and I need to focus! But, he’s just so beautiful. When our eyes meet, he giggles and blushes. I can’t believe _I_ have that effect on him.

Three weeks in – and we’re still going strong. He fills my every spare thought, and is always in the back of my mind. He’s so gorgeous and kind and beautiful and creative, he makes me dizzy, in a good way. He knows the right places to hold me, and the right things to say. I could never have asked for a better first-boyfriend.

I don’t know what love feels like, but I think it’s close to this.

**Third Person**

The two promised to meet in the Music Room. Phil decided it was finally time to introduce Dan to his two other favourite people. They’d meet, and walk to Phil’s lunch table together at second lunch.

On the way there, side by side but unfortunately not hand in hand, Dan beamed up at him, “You look really nice in glasses.” Phil rarely ever wore his glasses, he felt self-conscious when he did. It made Dan go crazy, though. He leaned slightly closer and whispered, “Super hot.” Phil blushed, nudging him with his elbow.

At the table, Chris and PJ sat on the same side, looking out towards the school. Chris poked his head up, eyeing Phil and Dan approaching them. He waved, grinning. He watched Dan look at Phil nervously, but still with an honoured smile on his face. Chris poked PJ, and pointed to the two coming closer. PJ smiled too, welcoming them to the table.

As Dan and Phil sat down, pressed ever so closely together (that was acceptable when they were in public). Dan was unsettled; this was the first time they’d been together without the privacy of the music room, or each other’s bedrooms, where they only played video games or napped).

“Hello,” Chris greeted with a gentle smile. “It’s Dan, right?” Dan nodded, blushing crimson underneath his fringe.

Chris and PJ both noticed Phil’s favourite plaid worn by Dan, over a black t-shirt. They looked to each other, eyes having a conversation _‘You notice it too?’_. They would talk about it later.

“I’m Chris, and this is PJ,” Chris introduced. PJ dropped his stunned look to smile politely. Dan, in these first few moments, already had ideas on what they might be like. He imagined Chris as very sweet and kind. The kid who always had a band-aid ready in case you hurt yourself. PJ looked quite domineering at first, but when he smiled, Dan could see his nicer side. Phil had fantastic friends.

In the awkward silence that followed, PJ stuck two fingers in the direction of Dan and Phil. “You two…” He muttered, “Are dating?” He said it quietly in case others heard, not knowing whether it was the same thing that Chris and PJ had; a secret.

Phil nodded, grinning. “It’s been about three weeks, only,” he looked to Dan for confirmation. Dan beamed, agreeing. Chris noted the way Dan struggled to tear his eyes away from Phil.

From there, the conversation flowed easily. Everyone chatted and laughed, and Dan was so elated he could float away. He was ever so grateful for Phil, who had introduced him to a bunch of friends he was sure to treasure forever. No one had ever taken any sort of interest in him, except for these two. This warming feeling of involvement and love, could only be described as thrilling, to Dan.

***** *** *****

Dan stood in front of the Music Room’s door, scanning a colourful poster stuck over a carnival notice. Dan had pondered going to the carnival with Phil, in fact, it fell on their five-month anniversary. But, the poster stuck on top seemed to interest Dan a whole lot more. He chewed on his thumbnail in angst, as he read the details in a pastel yellow text. He wondered what Phil would think.

Walking towards the Music Room, Phil watched Dan lean in close to the door, eyeing something and concentrating almost as hard as he did when he made music. Coming up behind him, his eye caught the bold, pink title, “MUSIC GIFT, Musical Talent Quest”. Phil always thought these talent contests quite embarrassing for the poor contestants, but a little yellow subheading that read “Talent Agents appear at each official round” made him think twice.

“Whatcha looking at, Sweet?” he asked, as if he’d only just arrived. He wanted to wrap his arms around Dan’s waist and kiss his temple sweetly, but in public he couldn’t. Still, the only ones that knew of them were Chris and PJ. They liked it that way. And, they could go on secretive double-dates that were disguised as group hangouts.

Phil fondly remembers their double picnic date, when it suddenly rained and they all danced as they got drenched. He took many pictures, both on his phone and on his camera. He printed out his favourite one and stuck it above his desk at home. It’s Dan, arm’s blurred as he twirled under the rain droplets, but his face was clear as he looked at Phil. His hair had curled all over from the rain, but for once, he hadn’t cared. His eyes sparkled with adventure and love, and his smile spoke silent words of ardour.

“The poster,” Dan muttered, pushing the door open and leading Phil inside. “It looked nice,” he lied, stumbling over his bluff.

Phil shut the door behind him, then spun Dan around by his waist. Hands sliding to just above his hips and foreheads pressed together, Phil lowly whispered, “I know you, Dan.” Dan lifted his arms around his neck, smirking cheekily. His more playful side appeared when they were alone, Phil had learnt. Before Dan could defend himself, Phil continued, “You’re thinking about entering, aren’t you?” He pointed out, blatantly. There was no lie to his words.

Dan sighed, stepping back from their embrace. He fell back onto the levelled band seats, cupping his chin in his hands. “I mean, I _want_ too,” Dan said, quickly defeated. He pulled at a curl forming on his head. “To be honest, without you, I don’t think I ever would have considered it,” Phil smiled softly at the sentiment. “I- But, I just… I don’t know,” Dan cried, sighing and looking to Phil for help, asking for Phil to make the to-enter-or-not-to-enter decision.

Phil dragged a chair to sit in front of Dan, sitting on it backwards, his chest resting on the backrest. He grabbed Dan’s hand from under his chin, grazing his fingers over Dan’s slightly pink fingers. “Talk to me,” he encouraged. Sometimes, Dan closed up like a Venus Fly-Trap – it was up to Phil to release his tangle of emotions. Dan peered up and was met with a soft and sweet smile, it was signature Phil.

“I feel like I could do it, you know? Maybe not _win_ , but enough to get into the first round, at least. I couldn’t do it without your encouragement, Phil…” He dragged the hand that wasn’t clasped in Phil’s through his hair. “I’ve always refused to perform for anyone, except you…”

“Why, though?” In all their time being together he still hadn’t wormed this information out of Dan. Phil wondered if it were all too personal. “I mean, Dan, you’re one of the most talented singers and songwriters _ever_!!” His words were honest and true, and he tried to convey this as best as possible.

Dan blushed, shaking his head. “You’re just saying that.” Dan chuckled dryly, “Boyfriend Perks.”

Phil squeezed his hand tighter, shaking his head. He secretly got frustrated at Dan’s stubbornness. _If only he knew just how heavenly he was_ , Phil thought. “Look, Dan.” He sighed. “I’m not lying. _Anyone_ would think you have astounding talent.” He smiled softly when Dan squeezed his hand back. “If you want to be up there, I want to see you up there. Performing like your heart depends on it. I know you can.” He leant forward, pecking Dan’s forehead and mumbling against it, “You’re beyond astonishing, Dan. You could do anything…”

Overwhelmed, Dan leapt from the levelled seats, pushing Phil backwards and accidentally shoving him to the floor. He landed on his back with a winded groan, Dan laying on his chest with a splitting grin and watery eyes. He grinned, forgetting the loss of breath and ache in his back, wrapping his arms around Dan. His boyfriend lay peck after smooch across his face. In fits of giggles, they play-fought on the Music Room floor, rejoicing in their love.

As they settled down, laying side by side on the linoleum and staring up at the bright round lights as if they were stars, Dan turned to Phil. Face red and beaming, happy-tear streaks lining his cheeks, he whispered, for the first time, “I love you.”

And, Phil didn’t hesitate to reply with the same three words.

***** *** *****

**Phil**

Dan had decided to sign up for the competition.

After that lunch, we took the poster off the front of the door and followed the instructions to sign up. It turns out it was a pretty professional competition.

Here’s how it works: First, there is a private audition round. No audience, just the judges and a camera. The best 200 will follow into the televised ‘audition’ round, and the best 100 of those are weeded out by both the judges and the audience. The next few rounds eliminate two people each round, until there are ten people left. Those ten people battle it out in the final episode, until the winner is decided. The winner is rewarded with £10,000 and a record deal.

We hadn’t heard of it, because this was its first televised year, and it was hosted by the BBC, so it was likely to be huge.

I’m so proud of Dan. None of these facts deterred him from entering. He was suddenly so brave and courageous. But, something in the back of my mind tells me he’s not 100% ready. I believe in him whole heartedly, yes, but it would break my heart to watch him fall apart in the initial audition. So, I suggested something to him, which he hesitantly took on board.

He would sing a song for PJ and Chris, which he hadn’t done before. Then, when he was comfortable with that, he would busk on the street. I secretly hope that the pedestrians adore him enough to make him confident. And, hopefully, he’ll be ready for the audition.

So, to prepare, he’s practiced one particular song he wrote, over and over. It’s all he talks about, and all he does at second lunch. I’m watching him grow into a confident boy, and I couldn’t be happier.

Last night, I had a dream. Dan was on stage, performing his song. The crowd sings along to every word, and cheers for him, and he seems truly happy. I wait, side-stage, tears in my eyes, for I’m just _so proud_. When he finishes, he runs off, into my arms. I hold him close, never wanting to let go. Because, the boy I love finally achieved his dream.

He doesn’t let go, either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> inspire me ~ @fivepixelphan on tumblr :)


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan begins to perform for other people, but will he crack under pressure?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How do you like the new chapter?  
> Thanks for 500 tumblr followers <3

**Dan**

My heart raps against my ribcage, so hard my ribs feel like they might shatter. I could shatter any moment, too.

Chris and PJ sit side-by-side on the band seats, ready to watch me perform my own song. I’d only ever played my own song to Phil, who I knew would support me either way. Phil promised to sit right beside me, playing the guitar for me. I had my piano sat in front of me, pressing my fingers and pulling scales from my memory.

I plucked a string on Phil’s guitar, running my finger up and down and feeling the miniscule bumps ripple along my finger. “You don’t think they’ll hate it?” I asked, mumbling.

Phil shakes his head, a smile on his lips, reassuring me.

“You don’t think they’ll hate _me_?”

Phil shakes his head even harder.

“What if they think my lyrics are dumb?”

Phil placed a hand on my shoulder, soft and warm, and I felt myself melt into it. “Dear, it’s fine…” He pecks my forehead, his rough lips falling beneath my hair. His touch is soothing, and I want to crawl into his arms and feel him wrap me in his love. “I think they’ll love it.”

 

**Third Person**

Dan breathed in and out, calming himself. He looked into Phil’s gaze one last time, feeling the love from Phil flow through his veins. He turned to the pair opposite him, sucking in another deep breath. Phil placed the palm of his hand on Dan’s knee, rubbing it affectionately. “So, uh… I wrote this song.” He began, watching Chris and PJ’s face lift with surprise. Phil had left this detail out, when getting them to support Dan. “Phil is gonna play the guitar notes I wrote, and I’ll play piano and sing. So, yeah…” he muttered awkwardly.

Dan pressed his fingers into the keys, the melody dancing from his keyboard and through the room. Phil caught on, strumming his guitar. Dan felt the wobble of the guitar Phil was playing, lifting him up and securing him. He felt confident, with Phil beside him. Then, Dan breathed in, and the symphony of lyrics flowed from his lips. PJ and Chris were taken aback, gasping and wide-eyed – stunned.

Phil smirked. He knew all too well how this would go. How they’d both be so astounded by Dan’s gorgeous, sweet-like-honey voice. He peered at Dan, who kept his eyes closed; after years of practicing the piano, he didn’t have to look at the keys he pressed. He was unaware that they swooned behind his closed eyes.

He felt his heart thumping in his chest, beating and swelling against his ribs. Opening up to people, about something you’ve held so close for a long time, it felt nice. Colours matching the notes of his music swirled on the backs of his eyelids, and Dan strived to keep all of his thoughts together for Phil’s sake – for his own.

The song danced around the room, waltzing past PJ and Chris’s ears. PJ stood up, offering his hand to Chris, asking for a dance. Chris graciously accepted, nodding and placing a hand on his shoulder. They clumsily circled the room, captivated by Dan’s candy-sweet love lyrics. They felt just as Phil had, when he’d first heard the song. Enveloped in love, thoughts held in the person they admired so. Nothing felt so sweet.

Chris whispered under the music, “It sounds like it was written for us,” he remarked, listening to the way the words told of true love. His forehead pressed against PJ’s curls, the stray hairs brushing his cheeks.

“I think it was written for Phil,” PJ replied, soft smile lifting his lips.

As the song dwindled down to a close, Dan lifted his fingers from the keys, releasing a shaky breath filled with nerves and adrenaline. He opened his eyes, focus falling upon PJ and Chris. PJ bowed, thanking Chris for the dance, before spinning him into his arms. Chris clutched a hand over his heart, staring back at Dan.

Dan then turned to Phil, who’s cheeks were flushed, but his grin was so wide his personality represented the sun. “Well done,” Phil whispered, pouring his love into the look in his eyes. Dan leapt onto Phil’s lap, kissing him deeply and passionately as a thank you. As a thank you for opening him up, for giving him confidence, for inspiring and for encouraging him. He was ever so grateful. This was what Dan had always wanted, but Phil… He made it all a reality.

To settle his thoughts, when Dan pulled back he whispered against Phil’s lips, “Thank you…”  He clutched at Phil’s shoulders, wanting him closer. It reminded Phil of the first time they’d ever kissed. “You mean the world to me.” This was his first step into sharing his music with the world, and Phil had made it happen.

Phil smiled, pecking his lips after every word he uttered, “I. Love. You.” Dan grinned, pulling him into a tight hug and almost refusing to let go.

Chris and PJ let the two have their moment, sharing a gentle conversation about Dan’s astounding talent. Neither of them believed he’d have such a gift. Both was equally as speechless as the other. As Dan and Phil parted, Chris stood before Dan, clutching his palms. “Has Phil explained _just_ how talented you are?” Dan blushed at his words. He nodded, shyly. “I don’t think he’s told you enough, Dan. You’re a star!” Chris grinned, pulling him into a warm hug. Dan smiled softly, grasping Chris’s slightly smaller body and feeling his warmth press against him.

“You’re incredible!” PJ almost squealed. He bounded towards Chris as he parted from Dan, pulling him closer, almost protectively. Dan stepped back into Phil’s arms, feeling the loving hands of his boyfriend wrap around him securely. He sighed, shutting his eyes and resting the back of his head on Phil’s shoulder, smiling gently. Phil kissed his cheek, pecking it softly. “Are you going to pursue this, Dan? Or, do we have to pretend we didn’t just discover Britain’s Next Top Idol?” PJ rolled his eyes for emphasis – the thought was ridiculous; Dan should definitely express this talent with the world.

Phil looked to Dan, awaiting him to share the news. Dan looked to Phil, whose eyes bore assurance and encouragement. Dan looked back to the other two, “I’m entering a televised singing competition.” The two before them bounced up and down excitedly, asking which one. “It’s a new one, it’s never been televised, but it’s being hosted by the BBC! It’s called Music Gift.”

***** *** *****

Dan was curled into a ball in Phil’s arms, the two laying under Phil’s blue and green bed covers. Phil pet Dan’s hair, running the soft locks over his palms. He twirled the curls around his fingers, soothing Dan. “Are you nervous?” He asked, pushing Dan back slightly so they could see each other face-to-face.

Phil’s laptop sat on top of his lap, open on the entry submission page. Dan’s name and contact details had been filled out, and Phil had written him a two-paragraph long summary of his musical talent. Dan had blushed the entire time, as he watched the letters appear on the page. Phil’s mouse hovered over the big, red-purple SUBMIT button.

Dan poked his head out from the blanket, “A little,” he admitted. He splayed his hand out on Phil’s chest, tracing his fingers over the picture on his t-shirt. He fell silent, eyes peering into Phil’s.

Phil pushed Dan’s curls back, mussing up his hair a little. As he fixed it, Dan closed his eyes, Phil’s fingers massaging his head. When Phil stopped, he asked, “Do you want to click the button?”

Dan nodded, lifting one hand out from beneath the blanket. His warm skin touched the cool laptop, finger hovering over the mousepad. He lifted his finger, hesitant, before pressing it down.

The page froze, loaded, and a plain page of text appeared. _Congratulations, you have entered the competition. An email with event details will be emailed to you as soon as possible._ A look of accomplishment and a courageous smile fell upon Dan’s face, and a feeling of pride ripped through Phil’s heart.

***** *** *****

Dan tugged his guitar through the streets lined with shops, never meeting the curious gazes of pedestrians. Phil carried a chair over his head, PJ carried a speaker, and Chris carried Dan’s microphone and it’s stand. They set up in the middle of the street, passer-by’s occasionally glancing their way. Dan sat himself on the chair, folded over his guitar, anxious.

Phil played with his hair, “You’re nervous, aren’t you?” Dan lamely nodded in reply, heaving a sigh. Phil crouched down on his toes, so he could look Dan in the eyes. The blue of Phil’s eyes never failed to take Dan’s breath away, and he looked up to meet them, melting into his gaze. “Just think…” Phil began, rubbing Dan’s upper arm. “After this, we can celebrate our six-month anniversary! I’ll take you to a café?”

Dan grinned, nodding. “Yes, please,” he agreed, leaning forward to peck Phil on the lips. Their kiss was quick, being in public and all, but it still reassured Dan. Dan craved to have Phil in his arms, once again. He needed his support more than ever.

“Do you want us here?” Phil asked, stepping back as he heard the crackle of the microphone being plugged into the speaker. He watched as PJ and Chris gave Dan a supportive and affirmative thumbs up.

“Maybe… Just over there.” Dan pointed to a seat a few metres away, where an old man struggled with an iPhone, and a young child and her mother blew bubbles, huge grins on their faces. “I feel your support,” he grinned, strumming his guitar. It rung aloud over the speaker, and a few questioning heads turned their way.

“Off you go,” Phil encouraged, patting Dan’s hair. The three took a seat beside the old man, and the little girl immediately took a liking to Chris, who blew some bubbles for her to chase after.

Phil was eager to hear Dan play. It made him feel strange – he felt kind of jealous, since he was the first person Dan had ever played music too, and it was the birth of their relationship. But, he felt proud. Phil wondered if there was a word with more emphasis than ‘proud’, but he couldn’t think of one, as Dan started pressing keys on the keyboard.

Dan had admitted he was too uneasy to perform one of his original pieces, instead he’d perform his favourite songs that he’d learnt (which was a lot, according to Phil). The lyrics to _You Are In Love_ flowed from Dan’s lips, and many heads turned to discover where the angelic voice was coming from. Dan closed his eyes, feeling the song swirl around him and in his heart.

                _And you wonder why they lost their minds,_

_And fought the wars,_

_And why I’ve spent my whole life,_

_Trying to put it into words._

_‘Cause you can hear it in the silence._

_You can feel it on the way home._

_You’re in love. True love._

The song drew to a close, and Dan smiled bashfully. “Slow song to start with…” He began, awkwardly. “That was dedicated to someone very close to me, who uh, actually inspired me to pursue my singing career.” He grinned directly at Phil, and Phil smiled back, just as wide. Realising he hadn’t said anything in a few moments too long, he immediately threw his ‘busker-personality’ back on. He and Phil had practiced together, Dan talking to the imaginary audiences he was yet to inspire.

As he performed other songs, others a lot more fun than the first, he watched little children come and go, dancing before him. Office-goers in suits dropping spare change from heavily caffeinated coffees into his guitar case, and a few younger teens with phone-cameras filming him. The little girl sat with Chris tugged him to the spot just before Dan, and he lifted her up into his arms, dancing together.

Dan grinned, loving these moments. Of people caring for what he did, for loving it, and for finally taking notice of him. These strangers, for a moment, cared about him. Dan wondered whether they would remember him. Phil and PJ got up too, joke waltzing, and Phil could feel the ecstatic attitude beaming from Dan, like he was a beacon of utter and complete joy. Dan performed until just before dusk, the lightweight feeling inside of him so intense he could float away.

Dan pulled the money he’d received out of his guitar case, packing away his equipment. PJ and Chris congratulated Dan, before heading off in their own direction. Phil helped Dan carry it back to Phil’s car. “You did so well today, Dan, I’m so proud of you.” He remarked, as they scaled the quiet streets. Dan felt the star’s shine over him, and the distant roar of the highway echo through him. He felt elated, and serene, and beautiful.

Dan smiled to Phil. “You think?” The two reached Phil’s car, and Dan shoved his guitar into the back seat. “I couldn’t have ever done this without you, you know?”

Phil grabbed Dan’s hips, once he’d checked no one was around. He kissed Dan tenderly and sweetly. “Are you sure?” Dan nodded, sheepishly. He pecked his forehead. “I love you.” As he watched Dan, he could see sparkles glittering around him; he was shining, the most he ever had. He couldn’t wait to see Dan on stage, one day, only to see those sparkles boom into fireworks.

“I love you, too.”

Phil slammed the boot shut, the car wobbled on the tar before them, and they climbed in. Phil started the car, feeling it vibrate upon waking up, and driving away. “Where do you want to go?” Phil asked, lifting his hand from the gearstick and placing it on Dan’s thigh.

“Nowhere special,” Dan suggested, “Sushi train? I’ve been craving it lately.”

“Sushi train?” Phil hummed in agreement.

Sitting down at the bar, Dan watched the colourful meals circle around him and the other people in the room. He eyed each one, wanting to take them all off the train and stuff them into his mouth. Phil chose a tray of crumbed prawn sushi, and a plate of spring rolls. Dan picked up a salad sushi roll, and a dish of mochi for the two to share.

Phil snapped his chopsticks, grinning with achievement as they snapped evenly in half. Dan laughed when his refused to snap at all, grabbing another pair. Phil grasped a small sushi roll between his chopsticks and popped it into his mouth. “I’m really proud of you, Dan,” he remarked, “You did really well today.” He’d already said it, but Dan felt even more elated every time he did.

“I had fun,” Dan admitted. “Those people liked my voice! Did you see?!” He slid a sushi roll in soy sauce, watching it dance along the plate. “I wonder if they would have liked _my_ songs too…”

“Of course they would have,” his boyfriend assured, passing a piece of his sushi to Dan to try. Dan opened his mouth for Phil and ate it, licking his lips and smiling. “Have I told you you’re amazing?” Phil giggled, watching the cute boy before him. Dan blushed. He grabbed a piece of mochi and ripped it in half, feeling the sticky insides coats his fingers.

A comfortable silence fell upon them. Their conversations often happened like this, when Phil would rest his head in his hand and watch Dan, and Dan would stare straight back into the blue, yellow and green pools of Phil’s eyes. They were two individuals, in love as one.

Phil thought about the competition and how far Dan had already come; from being the shy nerd no one knew about, to having a few extra friends at school and being comfortable enough to perform for strangers. He wondered whether Dan could handle the coming weeks and the official competition. He believed Dan could do it, but a voice in the deepest corners of his mind whispered otherwise.

“When’s the private audition?” Phil asked, suddenly, pulling them away from the background noise. Dan had texted Phil when he got the email, but had never replied with the details. Dan pulled out his phone, tapping away at the screen as he pulled up the message. _Dan Howell. Entry #3982. Your initial audition will be held on March 22 nd, at 11:35 A.M. We suggest arriving an hour beforehand. See you then! _Phil smiled, that was only eleven days away.

“I’m a bit nervous,” Dan admitted. “I’m just glad that round won’t be on the TV, for the whole of England to laugh at me,” he chuckled, tucking his phone back into his pocket. The plates in front of them had been wiped clean, and the two of them were full, ready to head home. They slid out of their seats, talking about the competition as they paid, as they got in the car, and on the way home.

Phil pulled up outside of Dan’s house, and Dan unclicked his seatbelt. “I had the best day today.” Dan whispered, leaning closer to Phil, and kissing him deeply. It was moments like these when Phil remembered the Dan he’d first talked to, the shy and socially-nervous boy. He’d watched him grow more and more confident every day. Phil smiled into the kiss, thinking about him. “Thank you,” Dan smiled, as he pulled back.

He opened the car door and slid out, standing on the curb as Phil pulled away. He waved him off, blowing a kiss. Phil’s headlights flickered on and swayed around the corner, until the street was empty again. Dan sat on the curb, crossing his arms around his legs. A flicked a pebble back and forth with his fingers, and wondered whether his dream could really come true.

***** *** *****

**Phil**

I stayed at Dan’s on March 21st, the night before the private audition.

Dan’s family was absolutely lovely. Their smiles resemble Dan’s, with the creases by their cheeks. Dan’s younger brother has one of Dan’s dimples, oddly enough. Dan’s father is gentle but strong, and sounds articulate when he speaks. Dan’s mother wears pastel and cares so much for everyone in the house. Together, Dan’s parents make a lovely dinner.

They welcome me in with open arms, and I couldn’t be happier – Dan is accepted by his family, and so am I. We watch TV together, all scattered out on the couches and floor in the living-room. I sit on the floor, my back against the lounge, and Dan sitting between my legs, rested on my chest. Sleep is heavy on Dan’s eyelids, and I gently rub my fingers up and down his arm to quietly send him to sleep. He needs the rest, to prepare for tomorrow.

At only 10:00, he’s completely asleep. I say goodnight to his family, lifting him up from the bend of his legs and the round arch of his shoulders. The tip of his spine presses into my forearm as I hold him close and carry him up the stairs. I lay him down, gently on his bed, kissing his forehead as a goodnight. He stirs, and I feel a pang of guilt in my gut.

“Phil?” Dan asks, arms reaching out for me. He realises his new position in his bed, small smile falling on his lips. Dan wraps his arms around my neck, heavy as sleep weighs him down. He pulls me closer to him, until I’m in the bed beside him.

This isn’t the first time we’ve shared a bed, and not overnight, either. We’ve never gone further than sleeping or making out, but the way Dan rests his palm on my hip makes me wonder how long it’ll be until we go all the way. He’s not scared, but he’s waiting for the right moment, he told me.

“Thank you,” Dan whispers, breath dusting my chest delicately. His fingers brush against the bas of my spine, sending bumps rising over my skin, his warm fingers a stark contrast to my cold back.

Confused, I ask, “What for?”

He’s silent, and I wonder if he’s fallen asleep again, before he slides his hand up to the space between my ribs and hips. “For everything,” he whispers. He brings his other hand to the back of my head, pulling me closer and pressing his lips to mine. I can feel his chapped lips slide against mine with practiced rhythm. I smile at his sentiment, kissing him deeper.

He rolls me onto my back, and lays on top of me. He kisses my jaw and the space beneath my chin, biting it slightly, but not hard enough to leave marks. I know what he’s doing, and I grab him by the hips to pull him back. “Are you sure?” I ask, whispering quieter than before.

He nods, sitting up slightly and running his index finger along my visible collarbones. “Tomorrow’s my big day,” he smiles, “I want you. All of you,” Dan has tears beginning in the corners of his eyes, and I wipe them away with my thumb, watching the tear streaks shine out toward his temple. He grins, “You don’t mind?” This sudden rush of confidence within him strikes me.

“Of course I don’t…” I whisper, running my hand through his hair and patting his head lovingly. “Your parents won’t hear?”

Dan shook his head, giggling. He leans his head back, looking as if bliss ran over him for a second, mouth open.

I laughed, my hands sliding up his hips and up his shirt. He shivers, and I feel goose bumps ride delicately against his pale and soft flesh. “Are you ready?”

He’s silent, soaking in my touch. He shuts his eyes, and answers, “For everything.”

**Third Person**

Dan gently puts his guitar in this big, black case, sliding his pick between the strings, before locking it tightly shut. Phil waits on the edge of Dan’s bed, tying up his shoelaces. Dan hadn’t uttered a single word this morning to anyone, only muttering random phrases of luck and reciting his own song lyrics under his breath. As he clicked the final clasp shut on his guitar case, he fell back onto the carpet with a huff.

Phil peered over at Dan, whose pale face was exhausted and worried. He crawled over to Dan’s side, patting his fringe back. Dan huffed out a sigh, his wordless response enough for Phil to understand. He was stressed, and worried, and terrified. It was normal to be nervous for an audition, but this was Dan’s first chance at achieving the only thing he’d ever cared about – it was his whole life.

Phil leant down and kissed Dan’s forehead, but the calming effects only seemed to work for a minute. There was nothing Phil could think of to do, except watch this all happen before him, and hope for the best. He stood up, collecting Dan’s hand in his own and pulling him to his feet. Dan pushed his sweater down his stomach, smoothing it out over his form.

“I’m too nervous,” he whispered, a whimper escaping his lips. His thumb went immediately to his lips, teeth chewing on his nail. Phil felt a sharp pain in his heart as Dan began to cry, his stress leaking out of him in neatly packaged tears. Phil leaped forward and wrapped him in a warm, tight hug – it was all he could think to do.

“I love you, you know?” Phil whispered, kissing Dan’s tears away. Dan sobbed into his chest, cries ripping out of his throat. “You can do this, you know you can, and I know it too…” He continued. He was at a loss for what to say.

“This is my dream.” Dan replied once his sobs had subsided. “What if I don’t get past this audition?” His fist was curled in Phil’s shirt, refraining from hitting it against his chest.

“What if you do?”

When Dan’s eyes opened with shock, Phil realised Dan hadn’t let himself think about his future in this competition, in case his life crumbled before him. Phil watched Dan slowly gather his thoughts, as if given permission to believe he could succeed, and grab his guitar case.

“Are you ready to go?” He asked, standing by the door, and Phil couldn’t decipher whether Dan’s grin was real or pasted on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember to check out my tumblr and give any and all feedback :* @fivepixelphan on tumblr :) glitchfics@gmail.com


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Audition time... :O

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS TOOK ME LIKE 8 YEARS IM SO SORRY I HOPE YOU DIDNT FORGET ABOUTTHIS FIC I LOVE YOU

**Dan**

Have you ever been so nervous, that you felt numb?

The rest of the world seems shut off around me, and I feel as though I’m floating my way to the audition venue. I can only focus on the beating against my ribcage, the shortness of my breath, and the ever-present fact that this could be my only chance at achieving my dream. There’s pins and needles in the tips of my fingers as Phil grasps my hand, and a feeling of hope quivers inside of me when our eyes catch, momentarily.

Phil asks to take a photo of me on my big day. I think of the night before – as he pushes my back against a white expanse of brick wall to pose in front of – when we made love, and his gentle hands swept across my bare skin for the first time. He has to tell me three times to smile for the camera, because I’m too distracted. He keeps kissing me, his lips a quick fix.

In the photo, I look quite nice – Phil has a talent of doing this to me. I hold my guitar in my hand and pose, quite stiff, but I tried to look relaxed. Phil told me I looked like a professional getting their head and body shot, and that made me laugh; who knows, I may get my own shots soon. He asks if he can put it on his various social media points, not as my boyfriend, of course. I nod, and sneakily watch over his shoulder as he captions it, _Dan preparing for his big day… I know he’ll do it. Let’s go cheer!!_

The venue is a huge hall, filled with hundreds of people. I can only assume this is barely a quarter of them, as I was only entry number _three-thousand-and-something_. There’s a room in the far corner where, I guess, the recorded audition is held. There’s a thin, levelled-up stand where they announce the next number. As I arrived, the current audition was number 3682, and has slowly but surely risen up one by one.

Phil’s index finger swirls patterns on my thigh. At one point, to keep himself entertained and myself distracted, he turns me around and draws letters on my back, which I have to guess. At first, the letters are random, but eventually I realise they begin to spell out words. He’d made up a game of I-Spy and scrawled the words of his findings into my back for me to guess. The game seems to keep me sane, for a while.

After some time, it feels like there are too many people in the hall. I lay my head on Phil’s lap, letting him card his fingers through my hair. I tuck my legs as close as I can to my body, not wanting to disrupt the woman and her son practicing together. Closing my eyes, I try to shut it all out and pretend I’ll be okay, but it eventually becomes too much. I can feel the voices get louder and louder, pressing against me and winding me.

Everyone else rehearsing in their small, temporary cliques, nervous people crying, and small children running amuck – it was driving me insane and I could hardly cope anymore. I feel dizzy, threatened and frightened.

I quickly sit up, near-hyperventilating. Phil asks what’s wrong, but I can hardly communicate, so I point to the general direction of the door and stand up. He takes a moment to understand, nodding and following me out after I’ve already began my way out. My steps are broad and quick, I feel the hundreds of people crowd around me, and I’m desperate for escape. I feel heads turn my way, staring at the bizarre spectacle of a teenage boy on the verge of tears, shoving everyone aside as he exits.

When I’m outside, I feel the sun beat against my face. It’s nearing summer again.

I lean against the wall, and slide down until I’m sitting. Resting my head against the rough material, I feel like I can breathe again. My stomach stops churning, and the burning in my throat subsides. I don’t know what really happened, but all I can think, is I supressed my nerves too much.

I look up after numerous minutes of soaking in the freedom, and realise Phil brought my guitar outside with us. “What’s wrong?” He asks, sitting on the dirt beside me. He leans forward and presses his hand to my chest, and I think he can feel my heavy heartbeat beneath his fingers, and in doing so, kisses my lips sweetly. His touch lingers on my body even after it leaves, and I crave to hold him close.

We’re in public, but still alone, and it feels exhilarating to kiss him in a place that wasn’t each other’s houses or the Music Room. As he begins to pull away, I’m bringing him back to me, kissing him with more passion, but, an equal amount of chaste follows. I don’t want to do anything else; I just want him close to me.

Eventually, in knowing I have to, I pull back. I’m short of breath from kissing him, and he appears quite flustered too, which I’m utterly flattered by. “Are you okay?” he asks, and I realise the question has been asked just a little too much. I must be causing so much grief for him – a pang of guilt rockets through me.

“I’m fine…” I say, but it comes out as a choked whisper, a strangled lie. “Too many people.” I try to explain, jabbing my thumb behind me, the wall which holds the hundreds of people behind it. I sigh, grabbing his hand and playing with his fingers. He shuffles forward a little, but not too close – he doesn’t know I crave him all. He’s so considerate and respectful of my feelings and emotions, he knows what to do and say, and I can’t believe someone could be so in control of their life and even my own. He’s such a _dream_.

Phil grabbed my guitar and pulled it out of its case, placing it in his lap. He begins the chords to _Anyone Else but You_ ; the song we sung together on the day we confessed, and got together, and shared our first kiss. The memories and feelings of that lunch break came flooding back into my brain, and I feel overwhelmed with love. I almost completely forget the painful emotions from moments before, encased in Phil’s care.

Phil begins to sing, and I know why he requested I sing instead of him – he’s pitchy and not the best. I giggle, because I know it’s in his best intentions, and he’s doing something out of his comfort zone, for me. I wonder what makes him so wonderful, what beautiful little coincidences pieced him together to create the person he is, sitting in front of me now.

He’s waiting for me to join in – he slows down before each new line. Eventually, I catch on, and we sing the lines together. It’s like the first time, but he’s right beside me now and I don’t want anything different. I don’t notice his voice fade away until we finish the song, for the first time.

When we’re finished, he packs my guitar away for me and stands up. Reaching out a hand, I take it, and he lifts me onto my feet. We walk hand in hand into the hall, and for the first time, I feel confident.

**Third Person**

Phil watches as the presenters discuss something. There’s a boy and a girl, and they seem like they’ve known each other for a long time, as they lean their heads back and laugh together. They’re looking to their clipboards, blue pens in their hands and add ticks and crosses to the sheet. The girl nods, as if being directed, and ascends the stairs to announce the next audition.

Phil knows Dan is next – he was listening when the last was announced. He felt a little panicked for Dan, who had no idea, but he figured it would be best he didn’t know. Dan had been panicky all morning after all, and the last twenty minutes, he’d been calm and collected. He wondered how Dan would react when his number was called.

“Number three-thousand, nine-hundred, and eighty-two.” The woman called.

Dan hadn’t heard, tapping his fingers on his guitar case, absentmindedly. Phil tapped Dan on the shoulder, catching his attention and directing it to the woman on stage. She called the number again, and a look of realisation and shock and fear, but also somehow confidence thrown in, dawned on Dan’s face.

“That’s me.” He whispered. He grabbed his guitar case by the handle, looking to Phil, expecting something that Phil couldn’t decipher.

“You want me to come?” He asked, brushing his fingers over Dan’s arm, checking.

Dan nodded, “Quickly – before I lose faith,” he muttered. Dan briskly walked away, Phil grasping his fingers on his opposite hand and being dragged along. He rubbed his thumb over Dan’s knuckles, but Dan’s skin was too numb for him to notice.

The other man stood by the door, checking off Dan’s number with a tick. “Which one of you is auditioning?” He asked, and Phil could see the tiredness pulling in his features, his face sagging slightly. Dan raised his hand, slightly nervously. Phil was relieved to see Dan’s confidence hadn’t completely faded. “In you go,” the guy smiled, “Good luck.”

Phil went to follow him in, but the guy held him back. “Auditions only,” He said, seeming sorry. Dan turned around to face Phil, and Phil gave him a quick wave, all he could express as a final gift of confidence.

Dan felt it wasn’t enough, his arms stretching out toward Phil again. He leaped towards his boyfriend, his guitar just missing Phil’s body as it swung with him. He wrapped his free arm around him, “Wish me luck, please,” he whispered into Phil’s ear, breathing ghosting over Phil’s pale skin.

“All of it in the world,” Phil whispered, kissing Dan’s temple. “But I don’t think you’ll need it,” he giggled. Dan squeezed him even tighter, pulling his face back to grin, before turning around and walking behind the curtains. He didn’t meet Phil’s eyes, at all.

Inside, Dan wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, and perched himself on top of a stool. “State your name and entry number, the song you’ll be performing and why you decided to enter,” a voice behind the camera spoke. Dan pushed his guitar onto his lap. The world seemed to swirl around him, but it was too late for his nerves to set in.

Heart in his throat, he began, “I’m Dan Howell, Entry Number three-nine-eight-two. Today, I’ll performing one of my own original songs. I joined this competition, because I want to produce and perform my own music, to inspire the world.” Dan smiled to himself. It was such a simple way of putting it, it felt so much richer in his head.

A man with a shining, bald head stepped out from behind the camera. Behind his black rimmed glasses, he smiled “That’s nice.” His grin seemed so genuine and calming, Dan blushed. With the presence of someone else, Dan felt courage erupt in his chest. He thought of Phil, outside, and wish Phil could know he was okay.

“Thank you,” He stuttered, brushing his fingers over the guitar strings, making them strum a tune. The outburst of music startled him a little, and interrupted the odd serene atmosphere of the stuffy room.

“Off you go, when you’re ready.” The bald man stepped behind his camera again, and a woman Dan could now see handed him a clip board with a smile on her face. Everything about the situation calmed Dan down; everyone seemed so happy and cheerful.

Dan nodded, smiling, and strummed the first chords of his new original song, another love song about Phil, but no one else needed to know. He began to sing, shutting his eyes and letting the melody glide out over his vocal cords and between his lips. Behind his shut eyes, the woman swooned, and the man furiously scribbled notes onto the sheet of paper, smile delicate.

As he finished, Dan opened his eyes and set the guitar down by his feet. “Thank you for letting me audition today!” Dan grinned, placing his hands on his knees uniformly. The woman smiled lightly, switching off the camera and writing a number beside Dan’s name on the man’s clipboard.

The man nodded, “You’ll receive a letter if you get through to the next round,” He smiled widely, and Dan wondered whether he was always this joyful.

As Dan walked through the curtains, Phil waited before him with open arms. Dan ran into his arms, wrapping him up tightly, his guitar resting by their feet. Phil kissed his forehead, “How’d you go, baby?” He asked, and Dan himself relax even more after hearing Phil’s voice again, and being consumed in his arms.

“I think I did okay,” Dan whispered into his chest. Phil pet Dan’s hair, twirling it between his fingers. When they finally pulled apart, Dan clutched Phil’s hand in his. He felt warm, his veins oozing happiness. He felt dizzy, too; this day had been so amazing and eye opening, and such a rollercoaster. “Thank you,” Dan said, again.

Phil didn’t need to say ‘you’re welcome’ or assure him it was fine – he knew everything was okay just how it was. Spinning Dan into him, he pressed Dan’s chest against his own. Curling his fingers under Dan’s chin, Phil brought his boyfriend’s lips to his own. “I love you,” he whispered against his parted lips. “I’m so proud of you. So, so, proud.”

***** *** *****

**Phil**

I wasn’t there the moment Dan received his letter, like I wanted to be.

I swapped my books from the previous night back into my locker, putting my lunch on top. Resting my head against the door, I huffed out a sigh, feeling my eyes close on their own. I was beyond tired, having stayed up most of the night, furiously studying for some stupid science test. A few students walking past said hi to me, and I lazily waved back, which I felt bad for – but I could hardly help it.

I heard someone running down the hall, heavy footsteps slapping down the linoleum at top speed. I glanced past my open locker, expecting to see some lunatic making a mess of the halls. Well, Dan wasn’t making a mess, but he _was_ accidentally shoving people out of the way, who muttered grumpily at him. He apologised, but this didn’t stop him.

Dan’s eyes lit up when he saw me, not slowing down and somehow pulling to an immediate stop beside me. Everyone’s eyes turned our way, and I could see a few people wonder why I was talking to someone no one really knew. I guess no one had been paying attention to my contacts, lately.

Dan bent over, huffing and puffing, exhausted from running. “I ran… All… The way… Here…” He admitted, falling to sit on the floor. The spectacle had most people staring indiscreetly at him.

I bent down beside him, feeling his forehead. “You okay?” I asked, worried, and wondering why he pushed himself through this when he claimed to hate physical exertion with a fiery passion. He nodded lamely, resting his head against the locker beside mine.

“More… Than that,” he claimed between breaths, sitting up a bit straighter. I pulled my water bottle out of my bag and he choked out a thank you as he unscrewed the lid and sipped half of it. I chuckled, snatching it back from him before he drank the whole thing.

“Are you sure?” I asked, patting his hair. I knew, already, that I had to hold back my compassion at school, when only our friends and families knew. His hair was curling on the tips from his sweat, and flashbacks from passionate nights ignited in the forefront of my mind. I shook them off as best I could, knowing I wouldn’t get that sweet relief for a while.

He nodded again, handing me an envelope that had already been opened. A sticker on the front had his name and address, and I flipped to the other side to see a maroon pattern, and I instantly registered it as Music Gift’s colours. “What’s this?” I asked, feeling excitement bubbling up in my throat.

“Open it,” Dan urged, his composure slowly recollecting himself.

Carefully, I lifted the ripped tab pulled out a piece of paper, which was perfectly folded in three. Adrenaline pumping through my veins, my shaky fingers pulled the paper apart and read the single, small paragraph at the top of the page.

_Congratulations, Dan Howell, contestant #3982. You have been accepted into the televised audition round of Music Gift. See you on March 22. More information is to follow, so stay tuned!_

**Third Person**

They lay on Phil’s bed, limbs intertwined like vines climbing walls – connected, and stronger together. Dan breathed heavily into Phil’s chest, catching his breath again. Phil played with his curls, a long time habit, pushing his hair back to soothe Dan and comfort him, and so that he could see more of the beautiful boy’s face as he drifted to sleep.

Their skin was sticky with sweat, a thin layer glazing their skin. Either way, Dan felt beautiful, being cherished under Phil’s fingertips. Phil danced his fingers across Dan’s head, face, collarbones, chest, and arms, taking in all of the innocence of the boy. Without thinking twice, his hand travelled down to Dan’s waist.

Dan flinched, not used to the feeling of someone else touching him _there_. He gasped, but as the pleasure rolled through his veins, his face visibly relaxed and he melted into the touch. Phil smirked, setting himself up on his elbow, leaning his head on his hand and using the other to stroke Dan. It was nothing hot, not sexy or risqué. It was innocent, loving and proud, and soft, too.

“I love you,” Dan stammers out, breath falling out of him in stutters. His nerves were sensitive, as Phil ran his hand over him faster, he could hardly contain his pleasure.

“I love you, too.” Phil whispered, voice heavy with truth.

“Not as much as I do,” Dan managed out, voice quivering. Phil could only smile at this.

***** *** *****

Dan scrawled a note on the corner of Phil’s English book, _Practice with me in the Music Room?_ Dan pushed the eraser on the tip of his pencil against Phil’s shoulder, requesting his attention. Phil looked at him, confused, and Dan pointing his focus to the note. Once Phil had read it, he turned back to Dan and nodded, grinning.

“Of course,” he whispered under his breath. “Could we have it any other way?” he smiled, and Dan giggled, shaking his head.

PJ and Chris played drawing games in PJ’s notebook, Chris whining about how great PJ was at creating cartoon characters of all different types, jealous. He scratched out PJ’s doodles and tried to recreate his own in a more stylish way. Phil smiled at them, recognising their usual antics. He also noticed Dan scribbling love hearts and music notes into the margins on his page, and blushed.

The bell was about to ring – everyone knew, because the class became more and more unsettled as the clock ticked closer to first lunch. Phil tucked his pencils into his pencil case and zipped it up, stacking his books on top of each other, waiting for lunch to arrive.

A thought ticked in his head, “Have you picked a song, yet?” Phil asked Dan, tapping his fingers on Dan’s desk, where Dan was still copying down notes.

Dan looked up, thinking. “No,” He admitted. “I need the _perfect_ one.”

Phil giggled as Dan’s eyes went dreamy and he gazed into nothing. “I think I know what you can do,” he whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i dont even deserve to have my tumblo checked out im sorry everyone


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pressures of soon being on TV are beginning to startle Dan. Additionally, Phil finds something embarrassing from Dan's past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was a bit more of a filler chapter. but dont worry, the next chapter is almost finished and ist looks p interesting :)

**Third Person**

“What was your suggestion?” Dan asks, using a plastic fork to shovel through a leafy salad, avoiding most of the greens. He grimaces as the crisp sound of cracking celery crumbles in his mouth, and he tastes it. He gives up, dropping the salad on the seat beside him and shoving it away, before pulling out a chocolate bar.

“Well,” Phil begins, but stops himself. He opens his mouth, expectantly, and leans towards Dan. Knowing exactly what he wants, Dan rolls his eyes and lifts the _Lion_ bar up to his mouth. Phil grins, taking a bite and continuing, “Maybe we could write a song together. We can write the lyrics together.”

Dan smiled, blush tingling on his cheeks, and nodded wildly. His feet swung back and forth, kicking the seat in excitement. Phil loved this more childish aspect of Dan, grinning as Dan’s cheeks grew slightly rounder, but curved in with big dimples. He leaned in, pecking one of them with his lips. Dan pulled away, his cheeks turning redder, before changing his mind and leaning back in for another. Phil had stubble lining his cheeks; it tickled.

Dan pushed his forefinger over it – he didn’t have any facial hair or chest hair; he was practically a baby. Phil’s chest and facial hair made him so much _hotter_. Phil chuckled, kissing the tips of Dan’s fingers as they brushed over his lips. “I think that’s a _wonderful_ idea,” Dan muttered, gaze turning dreamy as he stared at Phil. He went to lean in.

Phil had realised the sudden mood swing in Dan, shaking his head disapprovingly. Placing his forefinger against Dan’s puckered lips, he gently craned Dan’s neck back. “I didn’t think that would get you in this sort of mood,” he tutted, ruffling Dan’s hair as if he were his kid brother and not his boyfriend.

“What?” Dan drawled, “You, talking about romantic music – it’s kinda hot,” he replied, fingers trailing over Phil’s arms, and even daring to go beneath his shirt. Phil rolled his eyes. Dan huffed, distressed. He poked Phil in the chest, “Don’t be so mean to your boyfriend…” Dan muttered, popping a pout.

“Mean?!” Phil cried, laughing at Dan’s childish antics. To fix him, he leant close and pressed their lips together. Dan opened his mouth, begging for more. Phil complied, licking his tongue over Dan’s, connecting them. It was almost erotic – suave, even. Dan wanted nothing more than to kiss the handsome boy across from him, in this moment. The song writing could wait.

Dan’s fingers curled in Phil’s hair, pulling them closer together. Phil, caught up in the moment, brought his hands to Dan’s waist, lifting him slightly. Dan took the hint, wrapping his legs around Phil’s hips, thighs brushing too close to danger. They continued like this, until Phil realised the need for caution, and slowly dissipated the emotions.

When they were finished, Dan pulled back with a dazed smile, brushing his fingers through his hair to fix it. “Want to come to mine, this afternoon?”

***** *** *****

It was raining. Luckily, Phil had packed an umbrella – he was always prepared.

Dan walked close to him, fingers just barely grasping Phil’s forearm, to keep them closer together, but he didn’t risk anyone seeing anything. The rain pattered over the umbrella, dripping down over the curve and back onto the wet pavement. The water dripped onto Phil’s shoulder, so Dan pushed the umbrella further his way, but Phil moved it back.

They walked in comfortable silence, revelling in the grey skies and blue-from-rain pavements, feeling the strange emotions that follow wet heavens, and Dan felt like he was falling in love all over again.

“I love you, you know?” Dan said, nudging his hip against Phil’s. He had to stand on his toes to do so. Phil grinned, leaning his head against Dan’s for a moment, pressing a kiss into his curling hair. Dan pulled on the curls, trying to press them straight between his fingers, but Phil moved his hands away.

“I didn’t know,” Phil lied, teasing him. “I guess you’ll have to prove it…” The idea of a challenge sparked in Dan’s eyes, as they tweaked shut slightly.

Dan grabbed the taller boy’s hips, pushing him into the fence. Phil gasped, breath hitching in his throat in surprise, as the cold, wet metal pressed against his back. He peered down at Dan, who seemed apprehensive. “Ca – Can I kiss you?”

People walked past, people glanced at them. And sure, no one was there to recognise them, but everyone was there to see. Phil nodded, gently, almost scared. Dan leaned in, and Phil whispered back against his lips, “I love you, too.”

**Dan**

We argued over this and that with the lyrics. I sat at my desk, and Phil lay flat on my bed, tossing a pillow into the air and catching it repeatedly. There are balls of scrunched up paper lining the floor and the sun setting highlights my wall a soft orange. I don’t feel like writing, or bickering, anymore.

Phil looks tired. He clutches the pillow in his arms like he’s hugging it, and his hair falls over his closed eyes. I wonder if he’s dreaming behind his fluttering eyelashes. He looks so soft; I guess he’s sleeping over, now.

I close my songbook. Phil gave it to me as a present for getting into the televised audition round of the competition. It’s black and feels like leather, but he assured me it was plastic. In a silver Sharpie, he’s scrawled “Dan’s 4th Songbook. Love, Phil,” and in the corner, it says, “For beating more than 7800 people, and making it onto the television,” with a small bear and lion doodle. I treasure the notebook so much, and I knew it was only right to write our first song together in it.

Standing up from my desk, I push my chair in and go to crouch beside the bed. He looks so beautiful when he sleeps, I can’t help but stare at him. Brushing my fingers over the soft skin on his face, I don’t mean to wake him, but his eyes flutter open. Upon seeing me, he immediately smiles – I don’t think I’ve pulled such a reaction from anyone before.

He pushes himself over, releasing the pillow from his arms, I assume to leave space for me. I crawl into his arms, “It didn’t work, huh?” He comments, and he sounds defeated – and sleepy.

I smile sadly, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “Don’t mind,” I reassure, “We’ll try again,” I whisper, shutting my eyes. I want to fall asleep too. He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me closer. “Just, wait, I want to take my jeans off,” I complain. I slide out of his reach, grabbing some pyjama pants from my drawer.

“Why don’t you just wear your pants?” I hear him ask. He has a cheeky grin spread across his face as he watches me undress. I roll my eyes, giggling and shushing him. I don’t want my family to hear him say such an embarrassing thing.

He sits up, resting on his elbow. I hear him shuffle around on the bed as I turn around to change, and then go dead silent. He chuckles to himself, I can’t help but wonder what he’s doing. Is he laughing at me? When I turn around, I see him clutching something in his hands, toying with it. It’s fluffy and round, and his eyes seems distant but playful. Upon realising what it is, I blush wildly and snatch it from his hands.

“What?” He asks, trying to grab it back from me.

It’s my childhood teddy bear. I still sleep with it, when I’m on my own. I treasure him with my whole heart, I was even nicknamed after him, for Christ’s Sake. I never told Phil, because it never came up in conversation – but I still hid the bear. I thought it was embarrassing, and I didn’t want him to poke fun at something I’m so sensitive about.

“It’s embarrassing,” I mutter, hiding my face from his view. I can feel the hot blood returning to my entire face, burning it red. I hide the daft thing behind my back, taking a step away from the bed. I feel ridiculous – I’m blushing bright red, clutching a toy bear behind my back, and I’m standing there in just my underwear and a t-shirt.

Phil smiles softly, “Why?” I don’t answer, turning away from him and stuffing the toy behind some books on my bookshelf. “Do you still sleep with it?”

Uncomfortable, I begrudgingly answer him, “Yes, sometimes.” I still refuse to look at him. I shouldn’t be so embarrassed, right? I hear him come up behind me, grabbing the toy, and my waist, and taking us back to the bed. I’m surprised, and confused, as he wraps me back in his arms, the toy between us. Smiling softly, I ask, “You don’t mind?”

“Why would I?”

“Because: it’s childish, and stupid, and-,”

“But, it’s part of you,” he explains, voice turned to a whisper. “And, I love you, no matter what.”

**Third Person**

Dan only received one other letter from Music Gift, entailing strict regulations and a bunch of fine print that he and his parents had to sign too. Phil had read over a bit of it, impressed and puzzled by its complexity. “You’ll have to hire a lawyer,” he’d joked, but Dan became nervous.

“It even tells you what you have to wear on the show!” Dan cried, waving the sheet around. He sat around Phil, Chris and PJ, during lunch. A breeze pushed past them, cooling them down. “No stripes. No herringbone patterns. Avoid intricate designs on clothing. No plain white articles, no plain black articles, not including bottoms, no plain red articles. No merchandise, and/or advertising for companies or brands other than your own… I can’t believe this,”

“There’s reasons for that, though,” PJ replied, as Dan dropped his head onto the table. PJ began to explain, “The patterns and intricate designs will mess with the camera and dance around on the screen. White clothes will glare, black clothes will suck the light, and red clothes with bleed. It’s all to do with lighting and recording, and plus – it pulls focus away from you, anyway.”

“You’re so smart,” Chris gawked, staring directly at him, small smile playing on his lips.

“I wouldn’t like the attention pulled away from you,” Phil said, as PJ and Chris followed on their own conversation, lost in their own world again. Dan rolled his head to the side, smiling at Phil.

Dan lifted his hand onto the table, and Phil drew swirls over his skin with his finger. “To be fair, you never want that,” Dan giggled. Phil scoffed, chuckling. Dan passed him a half-empty packet of crisps, “You want the rest? I’m kind of stressed out,” He complained.

Phil gladly accepted them, with a look of worry on his face, “You right?”

“Just worried – you know me,” Dan brushed off his concerns, sitting up straighter. Nonetheless, Phil continued to worry, watching him wearily. He doesn’t press it, but the worry that pursed his lips made Dan elaborate. “I’m worried that the kids at school that don’t like me, which is all of them, will change how they behave around me or wreck the whole chance for me,” he sighs, tucking his face into the crook of his elbows.

Phil rubbed his back softly, “You’ll be on TV! You have to expect people to change how they feel about you, no matter how shallow their intentions are.” Phil explained. He wanted to kiss Dan better, but he knew this was hardly the place for that, and his palm had been lingering a little too long and a little too low on Dan’s back. “Just so you know, your true friends are sitting here,” he smiled softly, gesturing to himself, Chris and PJ.

Dan grinned. “ _This_ is why I love you…” He muttered, running his fingers over Phil’s thigh discreetly. “One of _many_ reasons.”

**Phil**

Dan told me first; the show’s directors had chosen him and nineteen others of the 200 in the televised audition round to have a more personal connection with the show. In other words, the camera’s filmed Dan for small sections of his daily life and talked a bit about who he was and why he was auditioning. It was meant to make the audience connect with him more. I knew, for a fact, that they’d love him either way.

He had so much adrenaline, the excitement and intense nerves swirling around in his brain, and it seemed to stress him out.

We sit together on the band seats during first lunch, and Dan is sobbing into my hoodie, dark droplets littering my chest. By now, the other two of our friends knew and his entire family did too, and everyone seemed to be excited, but Dan was the only one who felt nervous atop of that. I rubbed his back in attempts to soothe him, and it worked with me whispering loving sentiments, after a long, fifteen minutes.

His cries had melted to sniffles, and he eventually pulled away from my chest and leant against the seats back. “Thank you,” he muttered, “I don’t know why I’m so nervous,” he admitted. “I guess, I’ve just never done something like this before – I mean, you were the first friend I’d made in years; now, I’m going to interact with all of England!” His voice started steady, but his lip was quivering by the end and his eyes were filling with tears again.

“Dan, you have to understand…” I began. I was ready to tell him what he needed to hear, and I knew he was ready deep down, too. “If you want to achieve your dream, of being a famous singer, you need to be able to do this. You need to be able to connect with the world,” I muttered, tugging his head back into my chest and petting his hair to further comfort him.

He nodded, hair rubbing against my chin. “I know, thank you. I’m trying to be brave.” He confessed. After a few minutes of silence, he said, “They’re coming to my house and to school next week. We have all the permissions and everything.”

“Is the principal gonna tell the school?” I asked, curious. Surely the students need to know that this is about _Dan_ , and not to get in the way.

Dan shifted uncomfortably for a moment, pulling away and diverting his eyes. He fiddled with his fingers, releasing a sigh. “Here’s the thing – I’ve already written the speech, but I’d like to practice with you.” I looked at him, cocking my head to the side. “The principal wants me to inform everyone, on assembly, that they can’t be in the way and to be aware that strangers will be in the school.”

“Really? That’s cool! Even more practice for you,” I encouraged. My fingers brushed a stray strand of his curling hair to the side, tucking it behind his ear.

Dan waved his arms about, “No one even knows who I am!!” He cried, dropping his fists against his thighs. Without either of us saying anything in reply or continuing the conversation, as we both knew it was the painful truth, he pressed a deep kiss to my lips.

***** *** *****

Dan rehearsed his speech over and over to me, pacing back and forth across the Music Room linoleum. He asked if I would wait backstage for him to sneakily lend him my support. I agreed, of course.

He stands by the side-stage curtains, shaking slightly and rocking on his toes. His fingers fan over the corners of his few palm cards, and he snuggles as close as he can into my side without seeming suspicious. As he’s ushered onto the stage, I wish him luck under my breath. He watches me, as he makes his way to the centre of the stage, and I flash him a thumbs up. It all feels familiar, somehow, or right – but I can’t place why.

**Third Person**

Dan wobbles his way over to centre stage where a lectern sits proudly in the middle. A microphone is perched on top, and Dan has to readjust the wires so it tilts down to his head. He peers out over the school, where 2000 people all, somehow, fit in the hall.

The whole school, especially his final year peers, are looking up at him with curious eyes – wondering where they may have seen him before, and trying to remember his name. Two familiar faces give him thumbs up’s and winks, PJ and Chris trying to further encourage the shy boy. Dan feels his heartbeat thump heavily in his chest as he clears his throat.

“Hello, everyone!” In his attempts to sound cheery, his voice wobbles out, evidently nervous. He sucks in a deep breath, trying to shake off his anxieties, and continues. “I’m Dan Howell, and I’ve come to inform you that next week, a camera crew from the BBC will be filming inside of our school.”

A collective murmur echoed over the student body, excited, confused and curious whispers rising in the hall. Students are communicating with each other; _will they be featured on TV?!_ Dan, threatened by the sudden interruption, glances Phil’s way. Phil checks his surroundings before blowing him a quick kiss and expressing the most loving eyes, and Dan turns back to the audience, bravery beginning to swell in his chest.

“I have been asked to inform you to stay away from the camera crew and their filming, and not to get in the way of our work. So, I’m here to remind you that unknown people will be wandering the school and not to disturb them.” Dan continued, placing emphasis on the ‘ _our work_ ’ part.

The principal came up behind him then, and Dan stepped aside to give him the microphone. “The camera crew will be interacting mostly with Dan, and whoever else they may choose to take part in their mini-documentary, right, Dan?” Dan nodded in agreement. “Care to tell everyone what this is about, Dan?”

Once Dan had finished explaining, the audience fell into a riot, rambling over each other. _Why? Why does this Dan Howell kid get to have a camera crew follow him? Why does_ he _get to be on TV? What’s so special about_ him _?_

***** *** *****

“Phil?” Dan prompts. He’s tucked beneath Phil’s warm arm, and they’re sat together on Phil’s backyard hammock, swinging back and forth softly. Phil hums, tapping his fingers against Dan’s shoulder. He has the song stuck in his head, the unfinished one, that they’re writing together for the TV. “When they want to know all about me, am I allowed to say you’re my boyfriend?” Dan asks, his voice rather quiet, and tongue stumbling over the question.

Phil thinks for a moment. He can’t place exactly why Dan is asking this question. “Why? What’s wrong with that?”

Dan plays with his fingers, picking at his fingernails. “I’m just worried that if everyone finds out I’m gay, they may not like me,” Dan whispers. The tone in his voice shifts and cracks, “And, what about the people at school? What would they think? What if no one in the audience votes for me because I’m gay?! I mean – I really want to tell everyone that I love you and that you’re my boyfriend but I’m just so –.”

Phil cuts him off, mid ramble, running his fore finger over Dan’s lips. “I don’t think people will overreact that much. Sure, the occasional person may not like it – but you know how it is…” Phil assures him, tugging Dan so that they lay down, squished together in the small, rocking space. “I would like people to know, and I know you do, too. Do what feels right, for you,” Phil whispered against Dan’s forehead before placing a soft kiss in the warm spot his breath left.

Dan nodded, simply, tucking his head further into the crook of Phil’s neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what do you want to happen next? :P will dan tell everyone theyre dating?


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan's not around, too busy practicing for the competition. Phil gets lonely, Chris and PJ examine their relationship, and Dan gets nervous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a pretty short chapter, only because I wanted a cliffhanger... To branch out into the next chapter, which will be coming soon!

**Dan**

There’s less people in the crew than I thought there would be. There’s the camera guy, Michael, who has a soul-patch and a huge camera on his shoulder. Sierra, the stylist – she has blue and green hair and eyes to match. The director, Maddie, holds a clipboard and pen in her arms, and greets everyone in my family with a smile.

It’s strange, being told to pretend to eat my breakfast against and have it be filmed. It’s weird, watching the three of them file into my bathroom to capture me straightening my hair. Sierra digs through my closet and offers to put some outfits together for my audition on TV (which, I gladly accept).

Michael crams himself into the small car with my mother and younger brother, and films our drive to school, which was also rather intriguing. My younger brother had fun, quizzing the poor guy with riddles and pulling faces at the camera.

As we rounded the corner, I braced myself, preparing for the oncoming shitstorm that I believed could happen. We stepped out of the car, Michael and I, and made our way over to Sierra and Maddie, who discussed various areas in the school that would be good for filming in. There were already students peering over the fences at us, some scouring green with jealousy. I felt slightly threatened, and tucked myself behind Maddie.

“So, Dan,” she began, turning to face me. She handed me an opened bag of sweets, letting me grab one. I’d already decided she was a nice person, but this small moment of thought for me made me realise she was delightful at heart, too. “What do you do in the mornings?”

It felt weird to be interrogated like this, to have my regular movements analysed. “I… Uh – go to my locker and meet up with my friends. We wait until the bell rings, and then go to class, I guess.” It sounded boring when I told her, but in reality, hanging out with the three of them was the most fun I have.

She nodded, penning down some information onto her clipboard. “Okay, sweet. We have the ‘walking through the halls’ shot, the ‘laughing with friends’ shot, and the ‘working hard in class’ shot. We could probably get a mini interview at lunch, right? For voiceovers.” She listed off various pieces to film to the other two and to me, trying to explain the process of today.

We made our way down the hall, and Michael filmed the whole way through, never bothering to shut off his camera, but skipping through the halls for different angles. I tried not to laugh as he bounded over students. I believed I may have made friends with these people, and wished I could see them again after today.

“Hey, Dan!” I heard someone say, and turned to the source of the voice. A group of students, who I recognise from my History class, passed by, all waving to me. They’d never once spoken to me, but I sheepishly waved back. They were the first to greet me, but various people I’d also never spoken to followed their actions as us four made our way to my locker.

“You’re popular,” Sierra observed, as we finally ended up at my locker. I filled in the combination and swung my bag inside.

“I’ve never _once_ spoken to those people before,” I admit, rolling my eyes. She quirks an eyebrow, and I shrug in reply.

From the corner of my eye, I see Phil, Chris, and PJ. They seem apprehensive to make their way over to my locker, but I wave them over. I see happiness lift in Phil’s eyes, and he quickly scuttles to my side. The other two follow closely behind.

“More people you don’t know?” Sierra joked.

I chuckled, shaking my head. “No, actually!” Michael is quick to raise the camera, and Maddie clicks her pen into action. “These are my best friends, Chris, PJ, and Phil…” I introduce, gesturing to each of the boys. Phil gives me a sideways glance, a questioning look lingering in his eyes. I nod, before continuing, “Phil is also, uh, my boyfriend,” I stutter over the words.

The crew seem surprised, by the raising of their eyebrows, but don’t say anything.

Before I know it, the bell is ringing. They follow me into every class I have, filming my every move. Every whisper I share with Phil, every hand I don’t raise, and every ‘concentration face’ I make. My classmates all seem perturbed at the foreign interruption, and I find myself more often included in things. Michael laughs, every time I politely decline, and Phil shakes his head, muttering “I told you so…”

It’s like this for the rest of the day. I’m always an interruption, but seemingly a welcomed one. Having my lunch filmed was awkward, too. Chris leaned over the table to whisper to me whilst the crew was chatting amongst each other, “Am I supposed to just act normal?” I nod in reply, and he huffs, “I suddenly forget how to do that.”

“Don’t worry,” I agree, “I feel like my daily routine is super boring now, as well.”

***** *** *****

Two days later, the crew return back to my home to show me the edited footage. They ask if I’d like anything moved or removed or added in, but I think it looks nice. It shines me under a ‘I’m just like you’ light, and makes me appear as I am: shy, but loving. A few pieces of me playing my music are slipped in here and there, too.

I thank them for spending their valuable time with me, before sending them off. They promised to see me again on the day of my audition, which was only nine days away.

Grabbing my calendar, I circled my television debut, and crossed off todays date. I hung it up on the back of my door, and made my way to my father’s music room, ready to practice until my fingers hurt.

**Third Person**

No one asked where Dan was the next day at school, not even the people who’d greeted him yesterday when the camera crew was there. They went about their daily lives; the only addition now was their knowledge that Dan existed.

Phil turned up to school, waiting for Dan by his locker. Dan was usually earlier than this, but it was now five minutes to the bell and he wasn’t here yet. Phil pulled out his phone, typing out a quick text.

**Phil: Are you coming to school today? x**

Dan hadn’t opened the message until Phil was in English class, alone. Without Dan by his side, and Chris and PJ chatting away, boredom, loneliness, and a dried up pen were all he was left with. He doodled a piano, as he thought of Dan.

**Dan: no, sorry. im practicing for the show! :)**

**Phil: Okay! Will I see you tomorrow? Miss you xx**

**Dan: maybe. wanna come over this afternoon? <3 miss u too**

**Phil: Yes please! ^_^**

Phil tucked his phone back into his pocket before their teacher breathed fire down his neck and confiscated his device. Phil wished the last half of the lesson away, and wished Music Class would go faster, and that lunch would hurry up and arrive. He glanced at the clock, which ticked away so slowly he thought he might explode.

At lunch, which finally arrived despite Phil’s disbelief it ever would, Chris and PJ asked where Dan was.

Chris scrolled through his phone, smiling at random intervals. He looked up, to see Phil’s face looking rather dull. “What’s wrong, Phil?” he asked, patting Phil’s hair.

Phil glanced at him grumpily, fixing his fringe back into place. “Dan’s not here, and I’m bored,” he complained, sighing. “At least I get to see him this afternoon,” Phil reasoned, leaning back on his hands.

PJ shrugged, whispering to Chris, “They can’t go very long without seeing each other, can they?” He mocked the pair.

“It’s not that, I don’t think,” Chris whispered in reply, hugging his arms closer to himself. “I think it’s that with the competition and the camera crew and senior year, and everything else in their lives, they really need each other. I think Phil was expecting his first relaxed day with Dan in a while,” Chris mutters, smiling sadly.

PJ’s face fixed with the same, sad smile. “Where is Dan today, anyway?” PJ asked, politely.

“He’s practicing for Music Gift,” Phil explained, “I don’t blame him for being worried.” Phil, restless as always, pushed himself forward and rest his head on the table.

“He doesn’t need practice,” Chris argued, “He’s already so talented. I worry for him sometimes…”

Phil felt a fire burn in his chest. If only they knew how much Phil worried about Dan.

Dan was his boyfriend; he was _in love_ with Dan. This shy little boy, who in the past few months he’d watched grow and change and become more confident. He knew for a fact that this show would make him as famous and extraordinary as Dan wanted to be and that this was his only chance – Dan was too shy to reach out otherwise. But, if anything does go wrong, Dan and his personality and talent and his confidence will crash and burn, and not that Phil worries more about himself, but he’ll go down with him.

“Just let him do what makes him feel confident,” Phil grumbled, pulling out his phone and blocking the other two off for the rest of lunch.

He hoped they’d be okay.

***** *** *****

Phil walked to Dan’s house, pulling himself up to the Howell’s front door and knocking. After a moment, Dan’s younger brother opened the door.

“Phil!” He cheered, poking out a fist for the teen. Phil happily returned the fist-bump, and the boy lead him into the house.

Phil heard gentle piano music trickle throughout the house, and he instantly recognised the tune as the one they’d written together. More, Dan wrote most of it and Phil gave his uneducated but music-loving suggestions. A thought bounced into his head, “I haven’t seen you since the day before Dan’s audition!” Phil smiled, taking his place at the counter.

Dan’s brother poured him a glass of juice, handing it over to him. “Dan’s been working really hard on your song. He really loves it – you know? He won’t shut up about it,”

Phil grinned, treasuring that piece of information. He was quick to change the subject before he gushed, “So, how’s school?”

The two talked for a few minutes, unaware that the music upstairs had ceased. Dan made his way down the stairs, stopping when he heard his brother and boyfriend chatting. He stopped before the doorway, listening in to their sweet conversation. He blushed, he was so glad that two people he loved got along so well.

Walking into the kitchen, he stops beside Phil, who greeted him with the biggest, most excited grin. “Hello, you,” he giggles, pressing a kiss to Phil’s smiling lips. Phil wraps his hands around Dan’s waist, and they momentarily forget their company.

A shrill whine escapes the boy, “Ugh! You guys are worse than Mum and Dad!” He sticks his tongue out, pretending to gag.

Dan laughs, “Really, now?” and presses a sloppy kiss against Phil’s mouth, and Phil fakes a moan.

“Gross!” Dan’s younger brother exclaims, and the two break apart in giggles.

“That _was_ gross, Dan,” Phil chuckles, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. He grimaces, but leans up for another kiss anyway.

“You love it,” Dan argued, taking his hand. “Come upstairs! I gotta show you our song!” He pulled Phil from the chair and dragged him up the stairs, bringing him into the music room. Dan plopped the both of them onto the piano seat, squishing them together on the chair.

Within a moment, Dan was pressing into the keys of the piano, using a range of notes and pitches in the song. His voice filtered out of his mouth beautifully, singing the lyrics they’d written together as his fingers danced up and down the piano. Phil sat, awestruck, mouth agape and eyes wide. As Dan finished, Phil spluttered, “W-Woah. That was… I can’t even describe.” He holds his hand over his mouth covering his jaw-hitting-floor mouth.

Dan blushed, “I worked really hard on it,” he explained, “I wanted it to be perfect, for you.”

Phil shook his head, “This isn’t about me, Dan,” he muttered, pressing a kiss to Dan’s temple. “I think you’re ready, for next week.”

“You think? But… I’m so nervous,” Dan admits, resting his head against Phil’s shoulder. His fingers relax, pressing into a note or two.

“It’s okay to be nervous, Love,” Phil assures, lifting Dan’s head up and spinning himself around so he straddles the chair. He holds Dan’s chin in his hand, “It’s only expected, I mean – you’re going to be on TV! But, I know how strong you are, and so does PJ, and Chris, and your parents and your little brother. You’ve come so far since we met, and I can’t wait to see how much further you can go,” Phil remarks.

Dan’s eyes ware watering, tears threatening to fall down his cheeks. His lip quivers, “Thank you, I love you,” and the first tear slides down his face. Phil wipes it away with his thumb. For the first time, he whispers, “You know, I think I can do it…”

Phil, immensely surprised at the confidence surging through the younger boy, wraps Dan in a hug, stretching his arms as tight as he could around his boyfriend’s small frame. “I know you can,” Phil remarked, rubbing his back.

**Phil**

Before we know it, the day of Dan’s audition rolls around.

The day before, Friday, he tells me he’ll be going on vocal rest that night. Astoundingly, Dan tells me he’s more excited than he is nervous – but that doesn’t mean he isn’t nervous at all. He pleads for me to stay the night at his house, again, and I can’t help but agree.

He hasn’t said a word since the school bell rang, signalling the end of school, and the beginning of Dan’s thoughtful mental preparation for the filming. On our walk back to his house, I find myself having to fill in all of the conversation, which is hard, as he’s usually creating topics of conversation and keeping them flowing. He seems entertained, as he grins at me the whole time.

He turns on the _Play Station_ , and he lifts up various game boxes for me to choose from, and that’s when I’ve had enough. “I’ll make you talk, or make a noise, or something,” I say, crossing my arms, challenging him.

He glares at me grumpily, hurriedly grabbing a notepad and pencil. He scribbles onto the sheet, and if I wasn’t so accustomed to his foul handwriting, I wouldn’t be able to read it say ‘But I need to stay quiet so I can impress everyone’.

“You’ll impress everyone, anyway. _I_ wanna hear your pretty voice,” I complain. Because, it’s true. Soon, he’ll become everyone else’s, and I’ll have to fight to have him all to myself. The thought humours me a moment, as I imagine pushing people out of his way. Who knows, maybe it will happen.

He writes on the paper again. ‘Challenge accepted – but can I sneeze or cough?’

“Maybe. I’ll gauge each situation as it happens,” I poke my tongue out, joking.

Dan rolls his eyes, holding up the game cases again and waiting for me to pick. I pick _Halo_ , knowing full well that if I tried hard enough and beat him, he would whine and complain, and I would win the challenge. We play, and he wins the first one. His fist pumps the air, sticking his tongue out at me. I win the next round, cheering and teasing him.

Dan glares at me, raising his fist and pounding it into my knee. I cry in pain, though Dan doesn’t have much muscle, raising my eyebrows at him accusingly. “What was that?!” I asked, going to hit his knee back, but he ducks away. “You’re not gonna tell me that I won because you let me? And, really, I’m just lucky?” I tease, trying to get him to say something.

However, he doesn’t say anything. He pushes me backwards, so my back rests against his bed, and he sits between my legs. I know what’s coming next, and I don’t object; he presses our lips together. It feels so natural, like our lips fit like puzzle pieces together. I don’t often crave to kiss Dan, but when we do kiss, it reminds me how much I love him and his lips.

It’s often we find ourselves in a position like this, waiting for our lips to hurt, so we can kiss them better again. His thighs sit over the top of mine, our crotches so close but not touching. Dan’s clever fingers wind their way through my hair, skilfully massaging and pulling on my scalp. I moan against his lips, too far into the moment.

So far, in fact, I almost miss when he whines, a high pitch begging from his throat. I pull back, grinning in triumph – I’d made him break his vocal rest. He seems disappointed when I rest my head against his blankets, his slightly puffy lips dragged into a pout. “Did you hear that?” I ask, poking my tongue out, cheekily. I brush his curling hair behind his ear, making him blush.

He shakes his head, pressing his fingers into his lips to feel them himself.

“You _whined_. I win,” I tell him. He crosses his arms, grumpily, and he’s so cute, I can’t help but push forward and kiss his forehead.

His breath fans against my neck, “Just let me rest my voice,” he mutters, poking my stomach.

“There’s that voice, I love so much,” I declare, taking his hand in mine. “Come on, then. Let’s go to bed, so you can rest that voice of yours.” He promptly follows.

He falls asleep with his head on my chest, after telling me how excited we was for the next day. As his eyes fluttered shut, I played with his hair, calming him down. I can’t help but wonder If he’s been disguising his fears as excitement, and it keeps me up until I can’t see the moon in his window anymore. Eventually, though, I fall asleep, my palm turned flat against his chest.

I can feel his heartbeat between my fingers.

I love all that he is.

***** *** *****

**Dan**

The televised audition is today.

I don’t know if I’m ready, anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UH-OH. Will Dan be okay? Will he be able to face the big crowds? Find out in the next chapter, when Dan debates his fears...  
> tumblr (so you can keep updated as to when my fics will arrive, ive usually got excuses hahaha): fivepixelphan :)


	9. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for Dan to hold his true audition, with the audience and TV hosts... Is he ready for such a feat?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its been more than a month since ive updated this fic and i apologise profusely. please read my tumblr (link in end notes) for reasons and updates in my life...
> 
> chapter warnings:  
> panic attacks

**Third Person**

Phil awakes slowly, the sun gliding in through Dan’s bedroom window across his face. He wants to curl further into the sheets, and snuggle up to Dan for a while longer, when he remembers that Dan will be filmed for the television today. A smile splits his features, as he thinks about how proud of Dan he is, and how far he’s come. He can’t help but feel overjoyed, watching this sweet boy he loved retire from his shyness and blossom into a courageous and talented one.

In thinking this, Phil is surprised when he feels the weight on his chest shudder slightly. He cracks open his eye, and is met with Dan sobbing softly on his bare chest. Dan’s cheeks are streaked red, and the corners of his eyes are puffy. He looked almost the same as he did that one time he got hay-fever, but this time, his mouth was curved into a sad arch. He wasn’t looking at Phil, instead out the window at the greying skies.

Phil quickly draws his arms out for Dan, pulling him further up his chest. “Oh, baby. What’s wrong? What’s wrong, dear?” He coos, over and over, which makes Dan weep harder into his chest. His ribs are wet, now, and the teardrops cause goose-bumps to ripple over his skin. He doesn’t mind, as he continues to rub Dan’s back up and down, soothing him into talking.

Eventually, Dan calms down. He wipes Phil’s chest off with his palm and uses the back of his hand to wipe his eyes. “I’m okay,” he confirms, sliding off of Phil and into his side. His arms reach over the boy and his fingers play with the shorter hairs on the nape of his neck. This spot of hair was always ginger, Dan had noticed, and he couldn’t figure out exactly why.

“Tell me,” Phil whispered, breath brushing over Dan’s nose. Phil brushes Dan’s curls out of his eyes, so he can see more of his face. It was something he’d always done, and something that made Dan’s heart beat a little too fast. Dan smiled softly.

“I thought I’d be okay,” he admits, eyes tearing up again. “But, I’m so nervous, Phil. What if I’m not good? What if my voice breaks, or the microphone breaks, or I _actually_ _break_ my leg? What if the crowd boos me? Or, I _piss_ myself? I dreamt that happened… What if nothing goes right?” Dan asks, as if trying to talk himself out of even attending the event today.

Phil shakes his head, pressing Dan closer into his chest so the distance between them breaches zero centimetres. He shuffles Dan’s head into the crook of his neck, massaging his fingers into Dan’s scalp. “That won’t happen, Dan. None of it, I promise,” he pecks the crown of Dan’s skull. “It’s okay to be so nervous, and so worried. But, I _know_ that everyone will fall in love with you and your voice, just like I did.”

Dan moves back, looking into Phil’s eyes. Dan’s crying again.

“You’re so incredibly talented, and you’ve worked so hard to get where you are. Don’t throw it all away, Dan, when your chance to become the person you’ve always wanted to be is only a step away. I want it for you, so does your little brother, and your mum and dad and Chris and PJ. Even Miriam, next door. Dan, you know you want it, too.

“I know you’re nervous, you’re supposed to be… But, don’t let it stop you.”

***** *** *****

Dan’s grip on Phil’s hand makes Phil wonder if his bones will break. They’re thin bones, after all.

Phil had recorded their song and put it on Dan’s phone, so he could listen to it, whether to practice, or just for the lyrics about the two of them. Not many people had a song about them, that they wrote together. It was nice to have and to hear.

Dan’s earphones are plugged into his phone and Phil can hear the piano in the background as he sits beside Dan in the contestant waiting room. There’s more than 200 people in here, but Dan blocks them all out with his song blasting his eardrums. Phil rubs his fingers over Dan’s skin, soothing him. Everyone else seems to have someone by their side, calming them down and cheering them on. A few cameras here and there film the crowd in the room and survey the contestants.

There’s a TV in the corner that displays a live view of the audience. There’s a table front and centre of the incredibly large stage, fit with four seats. Audience members file in one after the other, but there are still empty seats that Phil assumes will eventually fill.

In the opposite corner of the room is a door that leads to the side of the stage, eventually. Crew members file in and out, with clipboards and lanyards and pens and other equipment.

It’s too stressful.

Time seems to pass in a blur, with Dan resting on Phil’s shoulder or lap, or humming along to the song, or hyperventilating. Dan’s mother tries to soothe him, but Phil seems to be his only remedy. Phil apologises to Dan’s parents, carding his fingers through his boyfriend’s hair.

“Dan Howell?” A voice calls out, and the five of them perk up. Dan stands carefully, and eyes watch them. Sierra stands at the front of the room, a box in her hands, “It’s time for your make-up,” she smiles softly. Her eyes sparkle when she realises Dan is wearing an outfit she picked out for him. She guides them over to a room Phil hadn’t noticed before, and plonks Dan into a comfortable seat.

“Help yourself to the snacks,” she smiles to Dan’s family and Phil, guiding them over to a coffee table in the corner. Dan’s little brother dives for a biscuit, and Phil plays a game on his phone with him to entertain him.

Dan brushes a comb quickly through Dan’s hair before straightening it again, spraying all sorts of products onto his head. The room is quiet, except for the music on Phil’s phone, but Sierra leans down to whisper in Dan’s ear, “Your boyfriend is so proud of you,” she smirks, making eye contact with Dan in the mirror.

Dan blushes, looking at Phil through the glass. Phil looks up, as if knowing Dan was watching him, and grins brightly. Dan gives him a small wave, turning back to Sierra. He doesn’t know what to say, so he says nothing.

“You can see it in his eyes. They have the same passion yours do.” Dan sits in the seat, stunned at her words. He relaxes into the seat a bit more, as she dusts a shiny white powder above his cheeks.

“Thank you, Sierra,” he says softly, both for the make-up and the comforting words. She wraps her arms around him, wishing him the best of luck, before leading him and his family into a different waiting room.

**Dan**

This waiting room is a lot quieter, and a lot less stressful in terms of the amount of people. There’s only about three other groups in here, and the closer to the door on the other side of the room you were, the more nervous you seemed to be. I realised when the first group walked out, that it was time for their on-stage presence. I can feel my stomach churning uncomfortably, flipping over and over. Not in the nice way, like when I first kissed Phil (or whenever I kiss Phil at all, really) – it’s this awful, _I want to be sick_ way, is how I feel right now.

I shuffle down further on the couch as another group walks out the door and I’m second in line. I glance desperately at Phil, who spares me a knowing glance, and kisses the side of my nose. I wrap my hand tighter around his, squeezing his thumb in my grasp. We’re all silent, all praying that I do well, which doesn’t calm my nerves enough.

I imagine the thousands of eyes on me, the audience looking up at me. It’s their fair chance to throw their first-glance judgements at me. What if I look stupid? What if my voice cracks? What if they don’t like Phil and I’s lyrics? What if I press the wrong key on the piano? Phil had already assured me that everything would be fine, but I couldn’t help but worry about what would happen if it wasn’t.

I can feel my breath shallowing as I feel the nerves really begin to set in, making my chest feel heavy and weighted. I squeeze Phil’s hand harder, trying to alert him without speaking, because I couldn’t, that my heart was beating too fast and my brain hurt. He looked at me, worried. He squeezed my hand back, nodding silently. He doesn’t understand, which only makes me panic more.

Panic. That’s what this feeling is.

My palm starts to sweat and with all my effort I rip my hand from Phil’s and clutch my chest. I’m breathing too quickly, and I can feel a trickle of sweat down my temple. Phil’s hands are on my back, and I feel something wrapped over my body as I’m laid sideways on the couch. My mum’s voice is distant and I can feel feather kisses on my forehead.

It wasn’t what I needed – what I needed was space. But, the knowledge that everyone I loved was doing what they could to calm me down brought me peace. I saw dizzying swirls of colour on the back of my eyelids for who-knows-how-long. My eyes hurt, having been clenched shut, and I opened them to see Phil, who smiled softly at me. He breathed a sigh of relief, carefully rubbing his thumb over my cheek.

“Are you okay? You had a bit of an attack, there,” He explained to me, pressing a kiss to my hand grasped in his. “You were out for a few minutes…”

“I-I think so. Can I have some water, please?” I’m handed a plastic cup of water from my brother, who looks worried. I pat his head, sitting up slowly.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” My mother asks, pressing her hand to my forehead.

I nod, shakily. I check my surroundings, and there are a lot of new people in the room. In fact, it’s as if everyone who was before and after me in the line had been replaced. I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach – had I missed my audition all together? Had I passed out for no reason, in the end? “W-What?” My voice is shaky, “Did I miss my audition?”

A familiar voice talks over us, “No, don’t worry, Dan.” It’s Maddie, looking as professional as always. She grinned, muttering something into her walkie-talkie. “We moved your audition back. You’re lucky you returned when you did, it’s in half an hour. Sierra will be in in a minute to redo your make-up, then you’re on. I’ll see you, soon.” She smiles, handing Dan a sticker with _#3982_ on it. Flicking her hair over her shoulder, she left the room.

I beamed, feeling happiness swell up in my chest. “Thank you so much,’ I call after her. I peel off the back of the sticker and attach it to my shirt, directly in the centre of my chest.

I turn to Phil, who looks rather guilty. “I’m sorry, Dan. If I had have known you were so nervous I would have tried harder to comfort you,” he whispers, resting his cheek on my hand. I shake my head, but he continues, “This is all my fault…”

“Not at all,” I reply sternly. Pecking his forehead, I continue, “I didn’t know I was so nervous, myself. Everything just overwhelmed me last minute… I think I’m okay now, though. If anything, I feel a bit excited!” It was the truth – sure, I still felt a bit shaky after what I believe was a panic attack, but everyone’s thoughts have pushed me on, and it feels like all my nerves have fizzled and left me with nothing but adrenaline. I feel quite indestructible.

He grins, “That’s amazing,” he mutters, sitting up on the couch to kiss me. I don’t think I could have done any of this without him, right by my side.

Until the doors open, everything is a blur. My mother still worrying about me, whilst Phil tries to maintain my sudden new found confidence. My brother is getting restless and my Dad tries to combat this with thumb wrestles and word games. Sierra comes in and fixes my hair and make-up, and before I know it, the five of us are waiting side-stage.

The audience is sharing general chat, commenting on the last show and talking amongst themselves. Their muttered opinions flow over the stage and into my ears, and I feel my stomach lurch again. I must subconsciously alert Phil, who presses his hand into the small of my back. I smile gently at him, silently thanking him for his support.

Maddie turns up behind me, “Alright, Dan. You okay? Listen, now. Your video we made will play on the screen behind the stage, and when it’s over, you walk out onto the _X_ taped onto the centre stage. Introduce yourself, answer the judge’s questions, wait for your piano to be rolled out, then play your piece when you’re ready.” She instructs, before she even says hello. Her instructions barked into my ears feel threatening, but I know she’s just trying to help. Her face softens, “Good luck, dear. I know you’ll do well.” She places a soft hand on my shoulder, and hands me a microphone, before turning away.

Michael is filming us from the corner, and I give him a quick wave, which he returns, before I hear the audience go silent, and see my face on the big screen. My mum beams proudly, and my dad wipes a tear out of the corner of his eye. It’s embarrassing to hear myself talk.

I can hear myself in the background, and I turn to Phil, who is watching the screen, too. He looks down to me, when I tap him on the shoulder. His loving gaze makes my heart stop for a moment, and his hands on my back soothe me. He grins, “Good luck, Dan,” he says, and kisses me on the lips.

When we part, I can hear the video come to a close. I stand on my tip-toes, leaning in to whisper in his ear. “I’m going to go, and achieve my dream,” I assure him. “Thank you,” I finished, before turning away and walking to the edge of the curtains. I breathe in deeply, one last ounce of preparation before my fate is decided. As the introduction video ends, I glance behind me to look at Phil, who holds his hands up in a heart.

The audience cheers, and I know it’s my cue to step on stage. As soon as I take my first step, I can feel my blood pumping through my veins, and I feel my stomach roll over, again and again. I’m blinded by the lights shining on me, and I can’t really see the audience, which makes it easier and harder at the same time. The four judges sit behind the desk, watching me take my every step. I try as hard as I can to grin happily, but I’m worried I look like a maniac. I can spot multiple cameras watching me dotted over the room.

Murmurs rumble over the quiet auditorium, as I stop still in the centre. I want to glance back at Phil, but I know I can’t. They’re all talking about me, looking at me.

“Hello, Dan,” A voice says over the speakers, and I notice the judges are talking to me, now. I smile in response, waving slightly. The woman is in a pink sparkling dress, her hair tied up into an intricate bun. Her smile is soft and pink, her eyes shiny and blue. Her name tag reads ‘Clara’.

“You seem a bit nervous.” Another voice says. My eyes drift over to a man in a suit, who is losing most of his hair, but his teeth are magnificently white. “Are you nervous?” His eyes seem suspicious, and I decide he’s probably been noted as the ‘mean judge’. ‘Bad cop’, even. His tag, pinned directly beneath his pocket square, says ‘Lucas’.

“A little, yeah,” I say into the microphone. At least I know not to yell, now. My voice echoes over the audience. A few giggles and coos follow my words, and I grin, happy to pull a reaction from the crowd.

Another female judge chuckles softly, “Why are you nervous? We loved your video!” I like this girl. Her hair is long and blonde, curling towards the end and pinned back with a black bow. Her face is round and made up of soft angles. Her cheeks are as pink as her lips, and her dress resembles the night sky, black and sparkling. She spoke so kindly, too. Her name was lovely, too, ‘Serena’.

The audience agrees with what she says, and I feel my heart thump faster.

“Thank you,” I say, feeling less nervous. I try to share my smile with the audience. “I’ve always wanted to be on stage, singing,” I admit, looking away, embarrassed.

The fourth and final judge is wearing a blue shirt under a black suit jacket. “You’re finally here!” He chants. I nod, grinning, and the audience spares a cheer for me. I catch a glance at his name tag, which is pinned in the centre of his chest, ‘Thomas’.

Clara speaks again. “So, what are you going to sing for us today?”

“A song you wrote?” Serena asks, just as interested it seemed.

I nod, blushing a little. “My boyfriend and I wrote this song together,” I say softly. It felt odd to admit such a thing to a large audience. There was no turning back, now, though. I hear a few coos and excited shouts, and luckily, no noises I can describe as disgust. Luck seems to be in my favour, today.

“That’s so nice,” Thomas says. “Is it a love song?” He teases, pushing his pen into the table.

I nod again, feeling shy. I look away, down to my shoes on the floor. A red hot blush climbs up my neck and over my ears, and I pray that my make-up is covering it.

Serena mentions my video again, “You said in your video your write and record your own music. Is that true? Why go to all that effort?”

The answer falls out of my mouth before I have a chance to think it over. I clutch my microphone with both of my hands, leaning into it, “I do write my own music – I write my own lyrics, and all the notes. I record myself singing or playing any of the instruments I’ve included in the song. I’d never have been able to do it without my Dad, who taught me most of the instruments I know.

“I think, that reason I go to all that effort is because it’s a really poetic and creative way of expressing thoughts and feelings, in my own way. It’s also super fun, and I hope one day to share my self-created music with the world; I want to inspire people.”

“Inspire people to do what?” Lucas asked, eyebrows drawn together.

“To be themselves,” I answer. “I’ve struggled with self-confidence and up until only recently I didn’t have any friends. My music actually brought me my best friends and my boyfriend, and without them or my songs, I don’t think I’d have the courage to be myself,” I answer, feeling rather proud of my answer.

Serena, Clara and Thomas all look to each other with what I hope is adoration, and Lucas appears surprised. The crowd has mixed reactions, a few cheers, a few awes, and a few claps, too. I glance over at Phil, who looks as if he may cry. I smile at him, which he returns, brighter than ever.

“Show us what you’ve got,” Clara instructs, and I feel my stomach flip over again.         

The piano is wheeled across the stage, clunking over the wooden floorboards. A man adjusts the microphone stand atop the grand piano, as another turns the piano onto an angle. Another person carries out a chair, setting it in front of the piano, before taking my microphone from me and clipping it into the stand. I smile, thanking them, and as they walk off stage, I sit down.

The piano is sleek black, smooth around the corners, and the keys are pearly white like teeth. Underneath are the gold pedals, which I push on with my feet testing them out. My fingers hover over the keys, and I feel compelled to press just one – to try it out, to let the sound break the silence boiling in the audience. So, I do, and so my audition begins.

**Third Person**

Dan presses his fingers into the keys, impressively and skilfully gliding his hands along the piano, a complicated yet delicate tune flowing from his fingertips. If anyone was still distracted or unimpressed from his performance, they would be silenced once he started singing. His voice flowed out of his lips and danced in the air, blessing everyone’s ears.

Dan had closed his eyes, letting the song take over his mind, so he failed to notice the crowd’s reaction. Various people’s jaws dropped in surprise and awe, others muttering their ‘wow’s under their breaths or to the person next to them. Dan’s father and mother cried into each other’s shoulders, and his little brother bounced up and down in excitement. Phil was trying to hide his tears, furiously wiping his eyes with his hands and collar of his t-shirt, but it was useless. The judges were all speechless, looking incredulously between one another and Dan.

As Dan wrapped up his song, he let his fingers drop from the keys and into his lap, grinning to himself. He was proud of himself, and ever so grateful to Phil. Even if he didn’t make it past this ‘first’ round, he was brave enough to put himself out there and at least go for it. He put his hands to his heart, wishing Phil could read his mind; he’d never find the words to express his feelings.

He turned to the audience, and felt his heart drop at the silence that followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love receiving your comments and feedback with all my heart!! comment below, or check out my tumblr [here](fivepixelphan.tumblr.com) for more methods of contacting me!  
> as always, prompts are open :)


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan's results come through and things begin to change at school? Can Dan handle the newfound pressure of the competition?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know im very slow at posting for this story. please forgive me :)

**Third Person**

The audience was silent, and Dan felt his heart drop.

Then, all of a sudden, the crowd erupted into crazed screams, excitement rippling over the room and into Dan’s ears. He looked out, to see the judges with grins so bright they (almost) rivalled Phil’s, or their jaws dropped in awe. Dan felt his heart leap back up into its rightful place, rapidly beating.

He grinned, standing up and taking the microphone back in his hand. He waved slightly, only making the audience more riled up. He bit his lip, suddenly nervous for the judge’s reactions. Lucas lifted his hand, effectively silencing the crowds blaring. Dan gulped, gripping onto the microphone tighter as his hand got sweaty.

The judging panel was mysteriously quiet, before Clara said quietly, “Wow. I have no words – that was absolutely incredible…”

Thomas agreed, and Serena began to speak. “Dan, your voice is absolutely incredible. It’s incredibly smooth and sweet, and it goes perfectly with your beautiful lyrics. Your melodies are flawless, and your abilities on the piano and in music writing itself is beyond comprehendible.” She stops, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear before continuing, “And to think, you’re only sixteen,” she muttered, jaw dropping.

“I think he has a _Gift_ ,” Thomas said. Dan has learnt already that in the competition Music Gift, this means you’ve won the judge’s approval. His face split into a grin so wide it could crack his face, and he giggled a thank you into the microphone.

“Me too,” Serena and Clara said simultaneously.

Everyone in the room turned their attention to Lucas, who seemed to be the big boss of the judging panel. He looked out towards the crowd, turning in his seat, “What do you guys think?” He addressed them, arms spread out, “Do you think he has a Gift?” The audience’s screams were so loud; Dan could feel his ears ringing already. “I think that’s a yes. Dan Howell, you’re invited to the next round of Music Gift!”

Dan pulled the microphone away from his mouth as he squealed, quickly covering his huge grin with his hand. He doubled over in shock, feeling his heart swell with warmth and happiness. Suddenly, he felt arms wrap around him, lifting him up, and he was met with Phil’s face, and his family close behind him. Dan burst into tears upon seeing Phil’s face, tear streaked with eyes that bore so much happiness they shone brighter than the sun. He sobbed happily into Phil’s shoulder, his family wrapping their arms around him, too.

The crowd’s cheers and coos fizzled into white noise, as he leaned up to Phil, pressing their lips together. Phil whispered as they pulled away, “You did it. I love you.”

“It’s all because of you,” Dan replied, kissing him again.

If you asked Dan, later, what happened after this moment, he would tell you he doesn’t remember, because he was so overwhelmed with happiness that it blanketed his consciousness. His dream was taking its first steps into becoming a reality, and he couldn’t be happier. Who wouldn’t be?

As he was directed off the stage with his family surrounding him, he took one last incredulous look at the crowd, cheering for him and him alone, and he crept behind the curtains.

***** *** *****

“LOOK!” Dan cried, dragging Phil along with him as he raced down the stairs. His family, in the living room, sat up, alarmed. No one had gotten over the success of Dan’s television audition, the five of them still on an indestructible high. Dan shoved his phone out towards them, and everyone peered their eyes over at the screen. _#DanHowellsGIFT_ was trending on Twitter, a few pictures of him on stage by the piano or with a cheeky smile on his face. Various audience members expressed their disbelief at his talent, and claimed that Music Gift was only worth the watch if you saw Dan’s audition when it was to air on TV soon.

“I can’t believe it – I didn’t know they liked me so much,” Dan confessed, swiping the phone back into his possession. He scrolled over the other trending topics, which included _#ArielleDawsonsGIFT_ and _#JoelNavysGIFT_. Dan tapped on each of their tags, but he didn’t recognise either of the faces. He was sure to meet them soon, though, as they seemed to have made it to the next round, too.

Phil slept over at Dan’s again, that night, but it was a struggle to get Dan to bed. His excitement still ran wild in his veins, and he bounced around the room with giddy laughter and loud giggles. Phil had tried to wrestle Dan into the bed but that hadn’t worked and instead he hurt Dan’s arm on accident. He’d tried tiring him out by watching a movie together, but Dan commentated every moment. He’d even tried softly ticking his skin to soothe him to sleep, but Dan just giggled and wriggled away from his touch.

In the end, Dan forced Phil to climb out of his window and into the tree outside, the strong branch just under a metre from the rooftop. Phil, cold and shivering, shakily made the leap onto the branch, where Dan was waiting for him in the dark. Dan pushed a finger up to his lips, silently telling Phil to be quiet, in the dead of night. Together, they sat on the highest branch that would support both of their weights (Phil clung very tightly onto a branch that stretched upwards).

The stars twinkled above them, only a few visible on a busy Saturday night in the big city a few towns over. They were silent, content just in each other’s presence, as they were quite often – but something about tonight felt different. A change was evident in the air around them, one that felt victorious and brave. “Are you happy?” Phil asked into the silence. He knew the answer, he just wanted to hear Dan confirm it.

Dan nodded, brushing his curls out of his face. “Probably the happiest I’ve ever been in my life, it’s definitely up there with a few other moments in my life…” Dan chuckled, “In all my sixteen years,” he joked, swinging his legs in the air, his toes brushing a few leaves beneath him.

“Up there?” Phil asked, incredulous. “I thought for sure this would be the happiest you’ve ever been. Ever.” Phil chuckled, when Dan made a silly face in reaction. Phil wondered what could rival this day so much that Dan didn’t consider it the best of his life.

“Well, yeah,” Dan answered, after a moment. “There’s lots of days I’ve been this happy – on my sixth birthday I got this really cool midnight-blue scooter, I _loved_ that thing,” he joked again, and Phil was beginning to wonder what was so sensitive to Dan that he was trying to avoid it. “And… The day you asked to join me in the Music Room – I went home and cried, I was so happy,” he looks to Phil, a soft smile on his face.

Phil honestly doesn’t believe that such a day could compete with this one, but Dan continues. “Then there was the day we shared our first kiss, and got together,” he lifts up his fingers. “The day I considered Chris and PJ my best friends, and...” Dan continued, listing a few days of his life, many of which, Phil had been there to encounter. “And today,” Dan finally answers, placing his hands back onto the thick branch.

Phil smiles softly, as Dan rests his head on his shoulder. They sit in silence, and Phil snakes his hand around Dan’s waist. Dan feels his warm hand press against the fabric of his t-shirt, separated from his skin, and strings their hands together. “You know; I wasn’t lying when I said I couldn’t have done it without you,” Dan whispers, and it fades off into the night.

Phil bumps their shoulders together, acknowledging Dan’s comment. He wants to deny this, but he knows he gave Dan the courage he needed to put himself out there. But, he realises that it took Dan courage to accept Phil’s – he’d never listened to anyone’s compliments or advice before, until he had come along. Phil feels a spike of warmth in his heart, knowing this – knowing that he’s both Dan’s kryptonite and strongest support.

He grins, and Dan smiles back. Phil is convinced he can see the reflection of the stars in Dan’s eyes. But, all too soon, Dan closes them and the stars are hidden beneath his eyelids. Dan’s eyelashes flutter as he thinks for a moment – maybe he’s dreaming – and Phil brings their lips together. It’s quiet, it’s silent; the rest of the city is asleep. It’s like their own haven, and Dan never wants to leave.

**Dan**

Watching my audition on the TV was… Strange, at best.

The me on screen kept giggling and blushing, as the judges complimented me. Whilst it’s embarrassing to watch from a third person’s perspective, I can definitely feel the same feeling rushing back into my heart. I’m still rather struck by the crowd’s reaction to my performance – had they really liked it that much?

I can feel Phil’s grip on my waist tighten as he appears on stage. On the television, he wraps his arms around me, lifting me up a little. My family swarms in, too, but the cameras don’t miss as Phil pulls away and we kiss, whispering to each other. I hadn’t heard it then, but now, I can hear the audience cooing at our P.D.A. I blush, tucking my head into Phil’s chest.

“You’re cute,” Phil says, for no reason.

“So are you,” I reply, and he rolls his eyes. I tuck myself further into his lap and watch the rest of the show, watching audition after successful audition. If these people are my competition, I’m not in luck.

***** *** *****

“Hey, Dan!”

Almost every second person is greeting me this morning, it’s so strange. For once, at school, I actually feel like I’m getting noticed. I know it’s because my audition was aired on TV last night, but so what? My peers actually care about what I’m doing. It’s exciting – it feels nice.

Phil spares me odd and uncomfortable looks as we stroll through the hallways. I grasp onto his arm, trying to comfort him silently, but he tenses up. “Sorry. Just not used to it,” Phil smiles meekly, resting his hand over mine.

A girl down the hall stares at our laced fingers. “Neither am I.”

I get used to these new changes in my routine as the day goes on. A girl in my Science class tells me she loved my audition. My music class congratulates my achievement. A kid in the first year says they’re inspired by Phil and I being so open about our relationship (which I found quite sweet). Phil and I find solitude in the Music Room; it’s still our secret escape.

“You’re famous,” Phil chuckles, crossing his legs. He takes a biscuit from the packet in front of him, offering me one. I take it from him, taking a bite and dusting the crumbs off my lips. He made them himself. “Do you think you’ll be able to walk the streets without being noticed?”

“Maybe,” I answer. The prospect rather terrifies me. What if someone who hated my audition found me, and shouted abuse? I shake off the thought. “I mean; I don’t think that many people saw the show.”

“Are you kidding, Dan?” Phil asks, mouth agape. “You’re practically being used as advertisement for the show. I saw you in the ads this morning!”

This takes me by surprise. I can’t have been that good. There were so many other auditions far better than my own, and my competition was incredibly fierce. I must look alarmed, so Phil continues, in a booming voice, “ _His audition was astounding, he certainly has a GIFT. Catch up with Dan Howell in new episodes of Music Gift: Sunday nights at 7 PM._ ”

I giggle, giving him a gentle shove. He uses the momentum to come right back, falling into my chest. Leaning his head up, our eyes meet for a moment before he connects our lips. It’s romantic, and sweet. It feels like the beginning. He pushes my fringe back a little, tucking the longer strands behind my ear. “You’re more talented than you think, Dan.”

**Third Person**

Dan is dropped off by his mother in front of a rather large auditorium. Two large grey doors stand as the entrance, and a man stands before them. He towers over Dan, who had thought he was tall, casting shadows over Dan’s face. Shaking silently under his presence, Dan is surprised when the security guard breaks into a grin. “Dan Howell, right? Come in, you’ve got vocal practice.”

Dan smiles, “Thank you,” he steps under the man’s arm as he pushes open the door.

“I saw your audition. You’re absolutely magnificent. Can’t wait to see how far you go!” He cheers, as Dan walks inside. Trying to hide his blush, Dan scurries further into the building, where he runs into Maddie.

“Dan!” She cheers, wrapping him in a hug. She’s usually a lot more formal than this, it’s quite surprising to see this side of Maddie. “I didn’t get to see you after your audition, you did really well! I was so proud,” she smiled, ruffling his hair.

Hurrying to fix it, Dan bashfully expresses his thanks, and the two walk into a small, square shaped room. There’s a pane of glass and a door that splits the room in half. A panel of buttons and sliders and glowing lights is controlled by a man with a blond quiff. On the other side of the glass is a set of professional microphones and a keyboard. “Wow…” Dan gasps, looking around the room. To be in a real recording room was his dream. After hiding away in the music room to record his music, he found each and every button astounding.

“Welcome, Dan, to your personal practice and recording room,” Maddie says, showing him around. He’s introduced to the man behind the control panel, whose name is Mark. Luckily for Dan, they get along very well; Dan knows he won’t catch a break from Mark for a long while. That is, until he’s eliminated from the competition, but Dan hopes that’s an _if_ and not a _when_. He leads Dan into the recording room, decked out with microphones. Dan listens to the sound of his voice in the microphone and feels a strange sense of ecstatic happiness swell in his heart; the clarity was beyond comparable to his school’s microphone. Dan makes a mental note to record his personal music again, if ever he gets the time.

Maddie, who’d been sitting in the corner, stood up as Dan and Mark had finished testing out the countless controls on the panel. “You’re to practice here as often as possible, okay?” She told Dan. She pulled a lanyard out of her bag, with a laminated rectangle card on the end. “Wear this around the auditorium. It gives you access to recording rooms in your own time, along with toilets and the lunchroom.”

Dan gratefully accepted it, holding it in two of his hands. Examining the card, he glanced over his name in bolded letters. Running his fingers over _Dan Howell_ , he felt the ridges over the black letters pressed into the card, and smiled to himself. This was, almost literally, his ticket to success. He loved that thought.

“I’ll leave you both to practice,” Maddie says, hand pushing the door open. In the gap, she says, “Pick a song for the next TV Round, and make it good. Practice enough to make it through to Round Two; the filming is on Saturday.” With that, she left the room.

Mark clapped his hands together, dropping them onto his knees. “I was very intrigued by your audition,” he smiles, as Dan wraps the lanyard around his neck, letting the card bump against his chest. “Before we pick a song for you to perform, I’d love to see how you go about making music, if that’s okay with you?”

Dan felt the blood rush in his heart, making it beat against his ribcage. He’d been nervous when Phil had shown interest in his music and its creation, but somehow Phil had given him the courage and support he needed to share his creations with the world. And now, to have a professional musician ask him about his processes – Dan felt dizzy. He couldn’t believe his work had been admired by someone above him.

Nodding quickly, Dan gave a brief explanation of his procedure, from poems to using his father’s many instruments.

“You know, if you’d ever like to record in here, you can. I bet you’ve already thought about it, though,” he grinned, perfectly straight and dazzlingly white teeth shining brightly.

Dan, cheeks dusted rosy, nodded. “Thank you, for this opportunity…” His words slipped out nervously, wobbling out of his lips and into the air.

“Don’t mention it,” Mark chimed, dropping his hands onto the table. “So, shall we begin?”

***** *** *****

Sat side-by-side on a park bench, hips touching, Dan tells Phil all about his previous afternoon, and the filming on Saturday. Phil paid for both of them to indulge in some frozen yoghurt, littered with various sweets and fruits. Dan swings his legs as he recounts just how nice the practice room was, shoes kicking up little tufts of dirt.

“Have you chosen a song?” Phil asks. A soft breeze brushes past them in this secluded part of the park. Along the other side of the path is a bunch of trees, parted in the centre. Another path crawls between them, headed directly for Dan and Phil. In the back of his mind, Phil hopes no one decides to walk down this lane, so he can spend all his time with Dan and Dan alone.

“You’ll never believe this!” Dan starts, taking a scoop of his yoghurt into his mouth. A little gummy bear is perched on top. He turns to face Phil, “Mark and I are working on a song together. One that I’d already written, but he’s helping me improve it and record it professionally! I’m _so_ excited.” Bouncing on his chair a little, Dan talks about the outfit he’s been given to wear. A grey smart shirt, with black slacks and suspenders. He says the next afternoon, he’s to go to performance practice, where he’ll learn his stage cues and how to entertain whilst singing.

“You only have a week to prepare for all of this?” Phil asks, incredulous. Dan nods, and Phil’s eyes widen immensely, “That’s rough.”

Shrugging, Dan says, “Yeah, but I love it. I can’t believe this is happening to me.” For a long, stretched out moment, Dan glances up into the sky, eyes sparkling. Phil, who’s infinitely proud of his boyfriend, can’t help but feel a yellow warmth in his heart. He can almost feel the confidence radiating from Dan now; not in the cocky way, not at all. In a way that says, _I was once scared, but now I’m unbeatable_. Phil loves this.

“I’m a bit worried, though,” Dan says, suddenly. Phil quirks his head to the side, inquiring what about. “You know… I have to practice all the time. Soon, I’ll be pulled out of school for practice. I’ll see you less, which is gonna suck big-time. Additionally, what if I do all this hard work, and it doesn’t turn out?”

“First of all, I’m always going to be here. I know you’re going to be busy, because you’re working so hard to achieve your dream, and that’s okay. And, _if_ you don’t make it to fame, your hard work won’t go unnoticed by people in the industry, Dan.”

Dan smiles softly, swirling melted cream in the bottom of his cup. He prods at a sticky marshmallow, scooping it up and feeding it to Phil. Phil blushes softly, and Dan laughs. “If you’re always going to be here, I’ll always be there for you, too,” Dan says, quietly.

“What? To feed me soggy mini-marshmallows?” Phil chuckles, trying to hide the blush creeping up his neck.

“That, too.”

Laughing softly together, the pair don’t notice a couple walking up the path towards them stop. The couple are muttering furiously to each other, flailing their arms about, legs frozen in spot before Dan and Phil. Phil is the first to notice the odd debacle, as he stares at the bickering pair. Dan turns his head, too, and the couple shrieks.

“It _is_ you! Told you!” The girl says, nudging the boy in the ribs.

Dan and Phil, look to each other in confusion before turning their heads back to the pair of certainly strange strangers.

The boy decides to explain. “We saw you, and she thought she recognised you from the TV, but I said it couldn’t be Dan Howell. And, look, here you are,” the guy says, blushing a bright pink colour. “We’re sorry to interrupt your day,” he says, more to the girl than to Dan and Phil, sounding urgent.

“I really loved you audition! You were the best of all the auditions… Can I get a photo with you?” The girl asks, holding her phone in her hand, grip so tight it turned her knuckles white.

The boy denies her request for Dan, trying to drag her away from the brand-new star. Alas, she breaks free from his grasp. He cries out apologies, but Dan stops him short.

“It’s okay. I’d love too!” He says, in a sing-song. He stands quickly, and the woman feverishly pulls up her front camera and snaps a quick picture with Dan. Thanking him profusely, the two eventually walk away. Dan, in quite the daze, sits down again beside Phil. “That was weird…”

“T’Was indeed,” Phil says. In the silence that follows, the two laugh. The unexpected encounter was one they’d remember for a long time, Phil knew.

***** *** *****

**Dan**

I’d practiced furiously. I’d skipped a few classes and spent as long as I possibly could in the practice rooms. My outfit had been fitted, my stage movements rehearsed, and my song perfectly practiced. Mark and I chose to rewrite the music to an older song of mine, one from when I’d began to crush on Phil, coincidentally. Mark really loved the way I expressed my feelings through the lyrics, which made me blush beet-red.

Each contestant gets to rehearse their song twice in the auditorium, with their backing screen and props, etc. My props are an old phone and a bouquet, that match with the old-timey feel of my outfit.

No one seems to be watching me, besides Mark and the stage director, so I feel a bit more confident in my actions. It isn’t until Maddie walks in, finger pressed to the headset wrapped over her blonde hair and hurried steps followed by a posse of stressed looking people, that I begin to worry.

She speaks to a bunch of people surrounding the stage, and Mark seems to overhear the conversation, placing a hand over his mouth, eyebrows raised. As I wrap up the song, Maddie rushes over to my side. Her eyes look fiery with stress and worry, and she pulls me over to the side of the stage. From the corner of my eye, I see another contestant set themselves up on stage.

“There’s been a miscommunication in the competition rules,” she explains, pausing momentarily to listen to whoever is yelling through her headset. “The original game rules say that two people will leave every round. It’s been changed to five people every round to keep a twenty-episode season…” she says, looking me directly in the eye.

I don’t quite understand what’s so serious about this until I watch my competitor on stage, whose beautiful voice dances across the room. Five people eliminated every round? That’s so many. Feeling my stomach roll, I heave in a deep breath, my heart beginning to pound a little too fast. The room starts to spin.

Maybe I wasn’t cut out for this after all…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember to leave a comment or kudos if you enjoyed! all prompts and feedback can be sent to my tumblr :D

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it :) I'd love some feedback! If you enjoyed it, please feel free to check out my tumblr @fivepixelphan :p


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